“Oh, look!”, you likely say, “Cliff has written something. Mr. High and Mighty has PRODUCED something, a fact he will use to attack the laziness of a good portion of the rest of Earth for all his days.” And yes, you would be correct in assuming I am capable of such spite. Well, I seem to recall saying after the last silly story that I would never write one again. And in saying so, I exhibited another of my common sins...I lied. Right through the teeth. But, hey, it HAS been, what, two or three years since the last one? And that’s a pretty long time...you know, sorta like forever...kinda...right? Fine, laugh all you want! I’d advise it, actually, since I often think I falsely advertise these products of my imagination as something resembling funny. Anyway, enjoy it, or not. But if you fall in to the “not” category, for Chrissakes, I don’t wanna know about it! And I ESPECIALLY don’t want to hear about any way I’ve hurt your delicate sensibilities. Delicate things have one purpose...to be abused and thrown away by the rough hands of life itself. Wow, that ALMOST sounded smart. So close...

 

            Anyway, let us begin, at the place where most stories begin...the title. And as you’ve no doubt learned by now, the titles of my stories bear no resemblance at all with the material found afterward. It’s just my wacky way.

 

 

                                                                Two Guys Walk Into a Bar...

 

 

          “Easy, my minions, easy...soon enough we WILL control this pitiful rock of a planet...yes, the people of this ‘Earth’ shall indeed tremble ‘neath our iron fisted tyranny! AHAHAHA!” a figure cast in shadows cackled. The flickering glow of but a few candles was all that saved the small room from the inky black of total darkness. Shadows played across the walls, whose distance from the solitary figure could not be accurately judged. Because, you know, it was pretty dark and all. He sat alone on his bed, laughing maniacally at the shadows around him as they seemed to dance independently of the candle’s burn. In fact, the dark around him teemed with foul creatures, hideous beasts, slaves to his terrible, unspeakable plots. They were monkeys...really, really ugly monkeys. In fact, they had ‘won’ several ‘awards’ naming them the ugliest monkeys of all time. And they really stank. It probably had something to do with them being stuck in a room for weeks on end with no friends but their own feces.

            And at the epicenter of this disturbing mass of crappy fur and fetid stink was their leader. A man who could not adequately be described by words alone. No, this man defied the English language, for there were no adjectives that came near close enough to explaining his ways. A man clad only in a dark cloak...or maybe it was a light cloak, the room WAS pretty damn dark, after all...a man who seemed to be...fingering his own genitals in a suggestive manner. Not that there really exists a NON-suggestive manner to grab a feel of one’s own sack. One of the monkeys hopped up on to his lap. A definite air of familiarity existed between man and beast, the kind of air that I suppose REALLY has to be pretty strong to coax an ape to hop on to the leg of a guy while he’s wanking off.

            “Dammit, Bubbles, you’re ruining the mood...MACCAULEY!” the man shrieked in his high pitched, eerily effeminate voice. Seconds later, the door to the room was opened. For a moment, a blinding light was cast in to the room, sending the monkeys dashing for the corners like a bunch of shrieking, maniacal silverfish. A moment later, most of the light was blocked from entering by a lone, blonde figure standing in the doorway.

            “Yes, Jacko?” the man-boy asked.

            “I require...encouragement.” the figure on the bed said to him. Young Mr. Culkin started towards the man, snapping on a pair of latex gloves with disturbing speed and grace. He had almost reached the bed, when the man perched there loosed a scream that could wake the dead...and that also spurred the assorted monkeys to begin flinging excrement at the blonde one.

            “Dammit, MacCauley, you know you passed your sexual prime the day that first pubic hair emerged. No, fetch me a ripe young boy, and do be quick about it.” The standing figure left the room, acquiescing to the seated one’s commands.

 

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Sam screamed as he awoke, bathed in the kind of sweat that only mortal fear can produce.  Running on reflex, he glanced hurriedly about his room, his mind grasping for anything familiar, anything to help tell himself that he was indeed safe and warm in his own bed. He began to relax as his eyes passed over many of his prized trinkets. His poster wall adorned with posters of Ricky Martin, every one of which Sam had edited with felts to make it look as though Ricky was actually ‘Rickyta Martina’, a sassy Latin lounge singer and world-renowned seductress. Such pretense was required to fool his father, who was easily fooled by such things as hastily drawn-on posters of homosexual icons. On the nightstand, his ‘Poo-Chi’ robo-dog, or what had once been such a creature. Now it was a walking, 2 foot tall Mr. Data, who spouted amusing robotic witticisms at the touch of a button. Rust was featured heavily in his comic routine. And finally, lining the top of his computer monitor, the prize. A collection of any Star Trek Voyager memorabilia that featured Ensign Harry Kim.

            “Someday you’ll be mine, you saucy bitch.” Sam whispered in to the night, then released a longing sigh. Dreams can be so cruel sometimes.

            “Eeek eek?” a small voice seemed to ask from the darkness. As Sam looked towards the source of the noise, a small monkey appeared on the floor of his bedroom.

            “Well, hello little Achmed, what have you to report this evening?” Sam asked, sitting up in his bed. The monkey pulled a small pad of paper from his tiny utility belt and began reading from it.

            “eeek, eek eek EEEK eek. Eeek EEK eek. EEEEK EEEEEK EEEEEK!” Once finished, Achmed returned the pad to it’s ‘holster’, and looked up at Sam as he awaited instructions.

            “I see. Well, I guess we really have no choice, then, but to set back our timetable for the device. Where are the others, Achmed?” With that question, Achmed turned and began to scream in his high pitched monkey voice. Within minutes, dozens more monkeys of all shapes and sizes had assembled around Sam’s bed. All were dressed in outfits of differing types. Some wore overalls with suspenders. Others suits and ties. One monkey wore camouflage, and would occasionally loose an accidental burst of automatic weapons fire from the machine pistol in his right paw, often wounding his ape brethren, then looking at them sheepishly and shrugging his shoulders as if to say, “Hey, sorry about that, but whattya’ expect, I’m a freakin’ MONKEY over here!” Another wore a welding helmet, which was currently flipped up so that he could more clearly see this impromptu counsel session.

            “Ummm...Abdullah?” Sam asked the welder monkey.

            “Eeek?” It replied.

            “Where did you leave your welding torch?” The monkey looked around a few times before issuing the same reply.

            “Well, you didn’t leave it ON, did you?”

            “Eeek, eek....EEEK!” Abdullah answered before smacking himself in the face, then dashing back from whence he had come. Soon enough the fire was extinguished, and Abdullah returned, a little scorched, and certainly humbled, but basically okay.

            “Now again, monkeys, I must remind you that, though we may be constructing a doomsday device here, safety always comes first. Or must we learn the lesson of little Sanchez again?” Sam asked. At that moment, two monkeys in surgical scrubs appeared, pushing a small makeshift gurney, atop which a third monkey lay. Or what was left of a monkey, anyway. He was down to two limbs, had a patch over the area where his left eye should have been, and was missing several of his teeth. Sanchez looked up, then his head fell back hard against the pillow, and a slight ringing noise could be heard throughout the room. Quickly, the two doctor monkeys sprung in to action. As one began pushing the gurney back towards the monkey hospital, the other leapt atop of Sanchez and began beating on his chest in an attempt to re-start his heart.

            “Okay. Now, I just wanted to call you all here to say that...” Sam stopped as the door opened, and in walked a slight figure. The silhouette was slim, and as the mysterious stranger drew closer, Sam could clearly see the lower half of it’s feminine face was covered in a kerchief, tied bandito style to cover the face from the nose down.

            “Sweet lord no! No Mr. Jackson! NOOO! I’m twenty for fuck’s sake! Too old for your reaming needs!” Sam wailed, pleading for mercy.

            “Sam, will you quit it? I’m your mother for fuck’s sake!” Sam looked closer and, indeed, it was his mom. “God, I have to wear this thing, or I’ll pass out. It reeks of shit in here!” she continued, looking accusingly down at the collection of monkeys, many of whom feigned innocence by looking about the room and whistling show tunes. Except little Abdullah, who raised his hand and let out a sigh of admittance, before the others smacked him in to conformity.

            “Dammit mom, you scared the Hell out of me!”

            “Sam, please, won’t you please come upstairs for a little while? You’ve been in here for days with these...monkeys...the family misses you. And we keep hearing these noises...anyway, your father and I are so worried.”

            “Mom, will you please LEAVE! I have important matters to attend to with my monkeys, and you’re slowing up production enough as it is!” Sam’s mother rose up, then headed back towards the hallway, stopping once she reached the door.

            “We’re having tacos for dinner...” she said without turning, then left.

            “Woah, hey...mom, let’s not be hasty, here! Maybe I will join...dammit, where the FUCK are my PANTS!?”

 

            “Man, this movie is gonna be so damn SWEET!” Liam expounded as he and his friends waited in the lineup at the theater snack counter. This comment elicited a long exchange of the words “Dude!” and “Sweet!” in high pitched tones by Chad and Kelly that were only silenced by heavy sack beatings.

            “Why are we here again?” Cliff asked.

            “Dammit, Cliff, George Lucas has a dream! A dream to bleed every last dollar from every human being on Earth, so that he can live on an estate constructed totally from cash. And who are we to stand in his way? And, hey, this is the movie that’ll pull the whole trilogy together!”

            “But, come on, what kind of a fucking movie premise is this? And how the Hell did I get here again?” James asked, still shaking off the effects of the chloroform.

            “I told you, I couldn’t let you just sit all day at work and miss the cinematic experience of the year. And when I couldn’t convince you to come of your own free will, a little elbow grease got you here. Well, okay, not so much of the elbow grease, and a little more of the powerful sedative agents. But, hey, since you were unconscious, your ticket was half price!”

            “Jar Jar Saves the Universe? This is ‘Must See’ material?” James asked snidely.

            “Hey, remember how you guys were all pissy after seeing The Phantom Menace? And remember how that trilogy turned out to be pretty good? Well, sure, ‘Jar Jar Cooks Some Beans’ and ‘Jar Jar Buys a Car’ weren’t exactly gold, but this one will close out the whole trio with a bang!”

            “Hopefully an explosion involving Jar Jar’s head...I still can’t believe they made a Gungan trilogy.” Cliff lamented.

            “Hey, just give it a chance! I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t WAIT to see Jar Jar getting his tongue stuck in some sort of engine drive this time around. You know, every movie you KNOW it’s coming, but it’s comedic genius every damn time. Woo.” Liam said, wiping away a little tear as he chuckled at memories of Jar Jar past. Cliff, James, Kelly and Chad all eyed the distant exit door wantingly, then resigned themselves to the fact that, since they’d each spent 40 bucks on a ticket (20 for James), they may as well sit through this pile of shit. And once Liam had finally gotten his JumboBigBoyGutbuster popcorn and HolyShitI’mFuckin’Drownin’OverHere! cola, they trudged after him in to the cavernous theater.

            “So, who do YOU think deserves the Best Actor award this year?” Kelly asked, reading the question directly off the screen before him.

            “Well, Digital Animation A37 was pretty damn good in ‘Matrix 7 : Just Leave Me In The Dreamworld and Fuck Off!’” Cliff pointed out.

            “Come on! Computee 6577.118 was easily ten times better in ‘Megaman : The Game : The Movie : The Game based on the Movie : The Movie Inspired by the Game Modeled After the First Movie.’” Chad retorted.

            “But...wasn’t that exactly the same as the FIRST Megaman movie?” Kelly asked, earning him a stare of disdain from Chad.

            “Hey, genius, it’s called ‘satire’.” This caused everyone else to stare at Chad unrelentingly until he buried his face in his MegaEpicSuperBoombasticMonsterHuge-size feed trough of Skittles.

            “Heh, remember when real PEOPLE were in movies?” Liam asked. The memory caused everyone within earshot to begin laughing uncontrollably. “Yeah, those were the days...” he added as the laughter died down.

            “Stupid people...what the Hell were we thinking?” Cliff asked. It drew laughter, but not to the same degree of Liam’s witty reminder about the past. Oh, but Cliff would make them laugh...he’d find a way to make them laugh bigger than ever before! Damn that Liam...

            “Hey, it’s starting!” Liam announced unnecessarily, and all sat back to ‘enjoy’ the movie.

            “Kelly...Kelly...Kelly?”

            “What the fuck do you want?” Kelly asked Chad, who was seated next to him.

            “Huh? I didn’t say anything!” Chad replied, throwing his hands up to defend himself from the possibility of being physically assaulted.

            “Will you guys shut UP, I can’t hear what...” Liam snarled, interrupted by the laughter of many others in the audience...”Shit! Thanks a LOT guys, I MISSED Jar Jar getting his tongue stuck in the intake! There goes the MOVIE!” Liam settled back in to his seat in an angry huff, on occasion abruptly lifting his drink to his mouth. He finally relented his little sulk session when he raised the glass violently once more...and drove the straw through his lower lip, then headed out to the lobby to seek medical attention. Everyone else had long since relaxed. Cliff was sleeping, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. It had recently been discovered that Cliff was a human sub-species of one, a type of human being who required sleep in alternating amounts of either 2 hours per night, or 20 hours per night. It differed week to week. This was apparently a ‘sleep-good’ period.

            Kelly glanced around him, trying to find the source of the voice. When he could see nobody who would have been addressing him, he shrugged indifferently and settled back to watch the movie. Upon seeing Kelly’s relaxation, Chad slowly lowered his defensive posture, and returned his gaze to the screen, albeit with frequent glances all around him. You never knew when the next wedgie attack could be launched. Sure, those bullies hadn’t tried since he’d become good friends with Smith and Wesson, but you couldn’t be too careful. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, soothed by repeatedly stroking the snub-nose blue steel barrel of the revolver.

            “Kelly...Kelly...no, don’t yell at people again, we’re talking with you telepathically! Fucking human beings and their lack of understanding...you’re right, they ARE almost as bad as the Terralians! Those spiny cocked bastards...why, I wish...what? The human...oh, right! Sorry. Kelly, we contact you on a matter of vast importance to the Earth as a whole. We require the aid of you and your band of friends to stop a terrible plight which puts you all in peril AS WE SPEAK!”

            “What is it?” Kelly asked. Suddenly, he realized he wasn’t in the theater. He was in a meadow, surrounded by butterflies and flowers, and...familiar little people...

            “Aaaah! fucking gnomes!” he screamed, as he began kicking at the garden variety (Garden? Gnomes? HAHAHA! Funny funny!) manlings, sending them to and fro all around him.

            “Woah, hey, what’s the dilly?” One of them asked as he picked himself up off the ground and began dusting off his hat.

            “I HATE gnomes!”

            “Oh, I see...why...because we’re different? Huh? Is THAT it? I suppose you walk around kicking Negroes and Mexicans, too!” the gnome shrieked.

            “Well...no...I...I...”

            “Wait, now, can we really blame him if he walks around and boots a few of the brownies? I mean, come on! With their slick hair and born propensity for robbery, they ARE asking for it.” Another of the gnomes said as he walked up to the first.

            “True...okay, but we ARE agreed that kicking Negroes is simply poor form?”

            “Oh, of course! Of course!”

            “Ummm...guys? what’s going on here?” Kelly asked nervously. He had held a deep-seated hatred for gnomes all his life, dating back to the day his natural parents had been killed in a freakish garden store accident involving a twenty foot  wall display of gnomes. He still shuddered to think about it. Sure, his foster family had been okay...well, beyond that whole Nazi child harem thing, that is. But still, something like watching your parents crushed beneath a torrent of inanely smiling midgets in floppy hats doesn’t just go away!

            “Oh, sorry. Kelly, we understand your fear of our kind, but, please, realize we are NOT garden-type gnomes. Hell, those guys can stand perfectly still for days on end! I’m lucky if I can do that for a minute and a half!”

            “Wait...garden gnomes are...alive?”

            “Well, certainly! What’d you think, they were some sort of weird ceramic creation? HAHA! Humans!”

            “But, I’ve SEEN garden gnomes...and they ARE ceramic...and often filled with flowers and such...”

            “My GOD! CAN he help us? His kind bake our brethren in kilns, then stuff their pain racked orifices with soil and potting plants! What can such a monstrous creature do to help us?”

            “He is our only hope! Now, who the Hell am I, anyway? I’ve lost track of this conversation. Well...okay, I’m the first gnome. My name is Galein. And this grumpy, argumentative sot is Hazabas. As I’ve said before, we need your help, Kelly!”

            “But...why me?” Kelly asked, still more than a little wary of the smaller man with whom he was conversing. Hey, who in their right mind trusts a foot tall bearded guy dressed all in yellow?

            “Kelly, there are things you do not know about your birth parents. They were...special people. And they passed many of their special-people-powers on to the special person who you now are. These...”

            “Heavens to Murgatroyd, Galein, shut your creepy-high-voice hole! Kelly, you were picked because you’re an integral part of the main character group of this story series. The godly one known as ‘author’ has deigned that you be the key component of this story, because you were pretty much next in line.”

            “Well, actually, you were FOURTH, but after Tim didn’t remember anything about miasmas, you quickly bumped ahead of him, as did Chad, James, Sam, Atti, Kyle, Erron, Shaun, Tracy, that drunk guy masturbating on the street, the drunken lout who picked a fight with the author’s car, and the collective membership of every bad British rock band on Earth.”

            “Yes, Galein, thank you for that thoroughly pointless bit of trivia.”

            “Hey, I aim to please.”

            “So, guys, chill out a bit, ‘kay? Now, what is this threat to the world of which you speak?”

            “Excellent, I see that Mr. Harll has quickly gained a desire to help!”

            “No, Hecubus, I...”

            “Hazabas! My name is Hazabas.”

            “Hecubus, Hazabas, Costas Mandylor, whatever! From now on, you’re guy, okay? Good. So, no, GUY, I haven’t gained any desire to help. What I HAVE gained is a desire to get the Hell out of this dreamworld!”

            “Oh, well, fine, Mr. Poopypants! We’ll just zip right through the deep and involved back-story we had to describe what’s been happening here, and get right to the villain!” Hazabas shrieked.

            “Kelly...there is much in the way of shadowy darkness encompassing the Earth...” Galein started, then was quickly interrupted by Herr Harll.

            “No shit! That’d be the half of the globe facing AWAY from the Sun, right?”

            “Ye...NO! I’m not speaking of anything SOLAR, Kelly...more along the lines of pure evil.” Galein responded sourly, “Hazabas was right...next time, we’ll simply appear to a dog...it’s a lot less work.”

            “May I suggest Rue McClanahan, Galein?”

            “Oh, fine choice, Hazabas, a fine one indeed!”

            “Okay, FINE, I’m listening. So what’s the deal?” Kelly asked.

            “There is a place on Earth that is evil, Kelly Harll. Oh, sure, many locations on Earth exhibit the signs of being bad and wrong...Compton...         Graceland...your parents’ bedroom...but only one locale exudes pure, dark, blistering, light absorbing evil, my human friend. In fact, it is so blatantly twisted a place that to merely speak it’s NAME will bring a weariness to the spirit that can eventually grow fatal to my kind. Several denizens of this evil place have used their black sorcery to create...’The Evil One’. Kelly, this man must be stopped. He is a beast who grows stronger with each moment he spends on Earth. You and your cohorts are the ones destined to stop him.” Galein explained.

            “Wow...what a story...what a vague and thoroughly uninformative tale of woe!” Kelly snarled.

            “Hey, I TOLD you, to tell you MORE would mean my death!”

            “Oh, well, we certainly can’t sacrifice Midgie the Midget just to stop THE SPREAD OF EVIL AROUND THE EARTH!”

            “What are you talking about? I’ll have you know I risked life and limb SEVERAL TIMES on counter-espionage missions which helped bring down the Berlin Wall!”

            “What the...no, not COMMUNISM, you tit, the ‘Evil One’!”

            “Oh, THAT spread of evil...well, if I simply TOLD you his identity, it would make for a pretty lame little tale here, wouldn’t it?” Galein asked.

            “I...suppose...” Kelly hated being wrong. This hate was accentuated by the fact he was wrong...and the other guy was a midget. Cursed little people. They should stick to amusing movie roles and leave the debatin’ to the regular folk!

            “Thank you! Jesus! Anyway, you have learned all you need know. But I WILL provide you...with a clue...” Galein told him, then seemed to fade out, as did the rest of the gnomes, and the meadow they stood in. Kelly found himself lying in bed, safe at home.

            “Huh...I musta come home while I was still out of it...oh well. Heh, ‘Evil One’, my ass!” Kelly snickered. Just as he began to chuckle, the door to his bedroom opened slightly, and horror greeted him.

            “Oh, Kelly, you’re...up...well, it’s time to...pillage the village...again, my love.” Michelle droned as she leapt nakedly upon him. (Attention readers...I apologize to those of you currently feeling nauseous...please understand that this is necessary to convey a proper level of horror...if you’re strong, we can get through this together...)

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Kelly screamed in abject terror as Michelle began to writhe lustfully.

            “Save the screaming for later, my dear...now, RANSACK ME!”

 

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Kelly screamed at bloodcurdling volume, realizing partway through that he was back in the theater. He began to feel relief, until he looked back up at the screen...

            “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” he screamed again upon seeing Jar Jar Binks parading about in this movie from hell. Once more Kelly regained control of himself, and the other theater patrons stopped staring at him, and returned their acne-ridden gaze to the movie screen. Then, Kelly looked beside him...

            “AAAAA...heeheeheeHAHAHAHAHHAA!” Kelly laughed upon seeing the one, the only, ‘Angry Liam’. Soon, Liam was laughing as well, and everything seemed okay.

            “It’s okay, Kelly...I was pretty worried that Jar Jar bought it, too, but look, he’s okay!” Liam re-assured Kelly, who started looking towards the screen, then thought better of it, and returned his gaze to the floor.

            “No, that...wasn’t it, man. I had this fucked up dream...all these little people...”

            “Hey, nightmares are nothing to be ashamed of, Kel. Heck, even I occasionally wake up shrieking in a wet bed, sometimes because of a scary dream.” Liam shared.

            “Really...?” Kelly asked him, a little trepidation now creeping in to his voice.

            “Oh yeah. Just last night, I had a real doozy. Me and this other guy are pissing all over Richard Simmons, and he’s kinda liking it, so...”

            “GEEZ, that’s ENOUGH!” Kelly interrupted.

            “Oh, what, and YOUR dream was totally NORMAL, I suppose?!” Liam asked.

            “Hey, I kicked a bunch of gnomes, then Michelle was trying to seduce me, and...” Kelly started.

            “WHAT?!” Liam roared, then grabbed Kelly by the throat, and began shouting for Cliff to wake up.

 

            “That’s right, baby, I’m the Cavalier Crusader. You’ve got a problem with a drunk, I’ll put him under the wheels of sober justice!” a caped Cliff finished tell a frightened damsel as he leaned on his car. Sticking out from underneath the green Chevy was a pair of legs.

            “Thank you, Cavalier Crusader...how can I POSSIBLY repay you?” the buxom lass asked in her husky voice.

            “Well, I could use some gas money...”

            “Is that ALL I can...DO to...errr...FOR you?”

            “Oh, I see what you’re getting at...you wanna get dirty, eh? Well, I’ve got a dirty job for ya...why don’t you flush my transmission?” Cliff asked her. The woman looked at him confused for a moment, then shrugged and dropped to her knees in front of him.

            “What the Hell are you doing?” Cliff asked, then finally seemed to clue in, “I mean...uh...oh baby, oh baby, oh...” Just then, a third voice chimed in from behind him.

            “What are you doing to my man?” another woman asked. Both Cliff and the saved damsel looked behind him to see that where the car had been, an uncanny Denise Richards lookalike now stood.

            “Cavaliera! I...uhh...hey, what do you think you’re DOING?” Cliff asked the girl in the process of unzipping his jeans, who now looked quite confused.

            “Oh, so you want him, too. I guess I’ll just have to learn to...share.” Cavaliera said, then headed over to the two of them.

            “Share? Share what? Are we getting a pizza or something? Listen, Cavvy, baby, I barely KNOW this woman, I...oh...share...SHARE...OHHHHHHH YYYYEEAAAHHHH!” Cliff shouted as...

 

            “CLIIIIFFFFF!” Liam shouted directly in to his friend’s ear. This time it worked, as Cliff’s eyes shot open and he sat up with alarm in his seat.

            “Ladies, there’s plenty to go...where the fuck my bitches at?” He asked Liam, still wide eyed.

            “Uhhh...yeah...Cliff, we’re in the theater, and Kelly...”

            “The theater...the THEATER?! Dammit, the dream’s just gittin’ GOOD and you wake me UP? Liam, I swear, if this is so I don’t miss some masterful Jar Jar moment, I will kill you right here and now!”

            “Oh, hey, sorry man, I know about those good dreams...just last night I have this one where me and this other guy are pissing all over Richard Simmons, and he seems to be kinda liking it, so...”

            “FUCK, Liam, I don’t wanna hear any more! Mine was NOTHING like that. I just hit a drunk guy, then the car turns in to Denise Richards, and I start fucking her and this other chick with giant...”

            “Fucking the...car?”

            “Yeah, I mean...no...well...yes, I GUESS, but see, it WASN’T like that, it was...”

            “Oh, it was that kind of car-fucking that ISN’T creepy and disturbing, gotcha!” Liam shouted Cliff down, “Anyway, we got bigger problems than your raging case of Exhaustophelia. Kelly wants to hook up with Michelle again.”

            “I told you, I...WHAT? Oh for fuck’s...all right, let’s get the shovels.” Cliff said, then began to stand, but was soon wincing...”Uh...could we wait a couple minutes to...stand up? I’m gonna need a little bit to calm down...heh...” he continued as he sat back down. Liam simply shook his head and sat back, himself, still clutching Kelly by the throat.

            “Hey, where’s Chad?” Cliff asked, looking over and realizing that Mr. Weitzel was no longer there.

            “Why, worried maybe he’s takin’ a piece of your parking lot action, ya sick bitch?” Liam queried.         

            “Hey, Cavaliera would NEVER...I mean, NO!” Cliff replied.

            “You are one sick...whatever. Chad took off about a minute ago...a bunch of 12 year olds swiped his pocket protector and took off. I can’t believe you didn’t wake up, with all the noise he was making as he started after ‘em.”

            “Man, that’s rough. Was it the same guys who stuck him up on that flagpole by the waistband of his briefs?”

            “Yeah, looked like ‘em.”

            “Man...oh, well, seems like we’re good to go, buddy, so let’s take care of THIS piece of business, shall we?” Cliff asked, then started out of the theater, followed by Liam, dragging Kelly behind. James seemed to be engrossed in the deep plot, so they left him inside.

 

            “I’ll get you punks!” Chad shrieked as the trio reached where he was lying on the ground, just inside the exit doors.

            “Here, man, get up. You get it back?” Cliff asked as he offered Chad a hand.

            “NO. I was triangulating the necessary trajectory to catch the hooligans, when I suffered an embarrassing incident with my dental hardware.” Chad told them, then finally managed to right himself on the fourth try.

            “Who shot who in the what now?” Cliff asked. Chad simply gaped at his friend a moment, then shook his head and spoke once more.

            “I tripped over my damn retainer!”

            “Tough break, man. Say, wanna help us beat Kelly’s head in with shovels?” Cliff asked, then realized that everyone in the lobby was now staring at them. This would require quick thinking. “Uhhh...shovelfuls of...tough love, that is...?” he continued. They now stared with more repulsed looks on their faces, but at least stopped dialing for the police.

            “Uhhh...no, I’d better get my apparatus to the dentist to have it repaired. Good luck with that, though!” Chad told them. Cliff and Liam shrugged, then continued out to the car. Chad reached over for the retainer which had fallen from his maw and led to his downfall (LITERALLY!), lost his balance, and fell over again. At this point, several punk types in the entryway headed towards him, and before he could bleat like a stuck pig, he found himself the victim of a vicious pantsing. Grabbing his retainer, he headed off with what scraps of dignity he could save.

 

            “Okay, so, after all the warnings, you decided you want Michelle back, Kelly? Huh? Well, time for a little dissuadin’!” Liam bellowed as Cliff popped the trunk of the car and reached in for the shovels.

            “Woah...goin’ for a little backdoor with your little Cavaliery, eh, Cliff, you dirty bastard?” Liam chided.

            “Oh, grow up, man. It was a DREAM. And her name was CavalierA.” Cliff responded as he tossed one of the spades to Liam and closed the hood. When Liam turned away, he returned his attentions to the car, “Don’t worry, baby, you can show your TRUE colors a little later...when we’re alone...” he whispered, then kissed the trunk.

            “Guys...wait...I didn’t say I wanted Michelle back! I DON’T! I’m okay!” Kelly pleaded as Liam threw him to the ground. his protestations were met with the sound of two shovel blades slamming in to the asphalt on either side of his head.

            “Man, we’re pretty bad at this.” Liam commented.

            “I TOLD you we should have gotten in some practice on that drunken hobo! But NOOOOOO, you had to go and get all high falootin’ moralish on me!” Cliff protested, then missed again, as Kelly rolled away from his second try.

            “Guys! LISTEN TO ME! I DO NOT WANT MICHELLE BACK! I AM OKAY!” This time, Cliff and Liam hesitated, then each reached down to help him up, “THANK you...man, I thought you guys were...woah!” Kelly stammered as he was pushed back to the ground, and avoided two more chopping swings. “I TOLD YOU I WAS OKAY!” he screamed.

            “Well...all right, I guess I’ll believe you...but I swear, if I EVER see you with her...”

            “You won’t, Liam, I promise. Just help me up, man.” Kelly told his friend, as Liam bent down to help Kelly up.

            “You’ve lulled him in to a false confidence, man! Now hold him down and I’ll brain him!” Cliff screamed, cackling as he raised the shovel over his head with both hands.

            “Cliff, it’s over. He doesn’t want Michelle back.” Liam growled to his overly enthusiastic partner in crime as Kelly reached his feet.

            “I KNOW that, but sometime, we have to get some practice in, Liam! Otherwise, when the apocalypse comes, and darkness blankets the Earth, we’re gonna be trying to beat people with shovels, but we’ll just keep missing ‘em. But hey, if you’re comfortable with that...”

            “Darkness...Earth...” Kelly stammered, suddenly looking pensive. Looking pensive, or like he needed to take a crap.

            “What are you on about?” Liam asked.

            “He’s got the madness! We have to beat it out of him!” Cliff shouted, then started to attack again. Liam caught the shovel in midswing, wrenched it from Cliff’s hands and tossed it, and his own, back in to the trunk, which he closed behind them.

            “Enough with the beatings! Now, Kelly, what are you talking about?” Liam asked, turning back to his friend with a look of concern on his face.

            “These gnomes, they told me that this Evil One would soon start...ahh, it’s nothing, really. just a dream. Sorry, I can see I’ve worried you needlessly.”

            “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just gotta take a massive shit. But it can wait.”

            “Thank you very MUCH, guys!” James shrieked as he approached them.

            “Oh, hey, was the ending good?” Liam asked. His reply was a punch to the face. Well, that and...you know...a reply.

            “Was it GOOD? GOOD, you ask me? I was in a damn coma in there, and you LEFT me to die! Thanks a lot, ya fucking ingrates!” James ranted.

            “Hey, sorry, it’s just that we thought Kelly wanted Michelle back, and...”

            “What?!” James asked, looking at Kelly, “You better run, boy...Cliff, pop the trunk!” he shouted.

            “FINALLY...someone with some goddamn initiative!” Cliff gleefully said, then opened the trunk. Within seconds, James was chasing Kelly about the parking lot, shovel in hand, as Cliff hurriedly obtained his from it’s place in the trunk. “Get ‘im, J-Spot! But leave some of his skull intact for me!”

 

            TWO HOURS LATER, WHEN LIAM HAS FINALLY MANAGED TO STOP CLIFF AND JAMES, ONLY TO HAVE THE WHOLE DAMN THING START ALL OVER AGAIN WHEN CHAD COMES BACK FROM THE DENTIST AND PROCEEDS TO GO SHOVEL-CRAZY, ONLY TO FIND THAT HE CAN’T PHYSICALLY LIFT THE SHOVEL, BUT CLIFF GOES HOG WILD AGAIN AND STARTS CHASING KELLY ANEW, ONLY TO BE STOPPED AGAIN BY LIAM AND SHEER EXHAUSTION

 

            “Well, I guess we can go hook up with Atti, now.” Liam noted, still trying to catch his breath.

            “Yeah, weren’t we supposed to be at Denny’s, like, an hour and a half ago? Man, you got some splainin’ to do, Lum.” Cliff said, then sat down in the driver’s seat. Liam simply stared, jaw twitching as he held back his desire to kill brutally.

 

            “So, you’re all kinda...a girl and stuff, eh?” Atti asked the girl at the next table who had caught his eye, turning up the suave at the same time.

            “Ummm...last I checked.” she replied, rather uncertainly.

            “Well, would you maybe mind If I checked? You know, just for research purposes of course.”

            “Oh, you’re a doctor?”

            “No.”

            “Umm...a scientist?”     

            “Yeah, I’m a scientist.” he answered.

            “Really? Wow. So, what do you, you know, like, study?” she asked, now taking a new found interest in the man.

            “What? Oh, you mean a scientist who STUDIES stuff...no, I don’t do any of that.”

            “Well...then what kind of scientist are you?” she asked, drawing back once more.

            “Well, hey, I’m...I’m Hungarian, you know.” Was the answer that fought it’s way through his brain and off of his tongue.

            “Oh. So, you don’t do any scientificating?” she asked. Atti shook his head and gave her his ‘I am baffled’ expression before answering.

            “Pardon?”

            “Scientificating. you don’t do that?” she asked again. Atti was about to mock this woman for being a complete idiot, but was beaten to the reply punch.

            “What did you just say?” Monique asked as she walked up beside the table the woman was seated at.

            “Who are you?”

            “No no no, that’s not where we’re going right now. I want to hear the word you just used.”

            “Scientificating?” the woman asked her.

            “AAAUGH! People like you make me think one should require a license before being allowed to speak in public!” Monique raved, every word from her mouth dripping with venom.

            “Well, pardon me! What, are you dictionary girl or something?” the woman asked, then looked surprised as Monique began lifting her shirt over her head.

            “Oh, right on! Two girls goin’ at it!” Atti exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the Lezfest he was about to observe.

            “Actually...” Monique started with a glance of death towards Atti that shut him up, “I AM Dictionary Girl!” she finished. And indeed, she was now wearing a shirt emblazoned with that very name. She now began taking off her pants, but was having some difficulty pulling them over her shoes.

            “Uhhh, maybe you should just take your shoes off...first...” Atti suggested.

            “I’m FINE!” Monique snapped back, hopping on her left foot whilst trying to wrench the right pant leg over her right shoe. She finally succeeded, but the motion snapped back hard enough that she was thrown to the floor. “It’s okay, I’m all right...” she said to those watching as she pulled herself back up, then finally freed her other leg and tossed the pants aside, where they piled atop her shirt. She was now adorned in typical superhero tights.

            “Okay, you are a little tooo wierd.” the woman mumbled. [Author’s note : I KNOW weird is spelled wrong here. It comes in to play later. So shut up and read on.]

            “Spell weird!” Monique shouted in a tone that almost sounded commanding.

            “W...” Atti started.

            “Not YOU, this TROGLODYTE sitting at the table NEXT to you!” Monique raged.

            “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just trying to speed things along so that this scene will reach it’s logical conclusion, and you two chicks’ll start goin’ down on each other, okay?!” Atti replied, sounding as though he were nearing some sort of emotional breaking point. The possibility of lesbian sex, real or imagined, does strange things to a man’s mind.

            “Listen, I’m just going to leave, okay?” the woman told Monique, then started to rise. But Monique pushed her back in to the booth, and start before her in the typical Superman pose, with hands on hips.

            “I’m waiting, missy!” she spat.

            “I...I don’t understand what you want! And my name is Katrina!” the woman sobbed in return.

            “I want you...to spell WEIRD! You USED the damn word, and I’m betting you can’t fucking spell it!” Monique shouted, unrelenting in her quest to utterly destroy this heathenous bitch.

            “Hey, listen, I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk lately. It’s just...all the pressure from work, baby, but...you know I love you, right?” Atti told the now sobbing woman breaking ‘neath the steely gaze of ‘Nique.

            “Atti, what the fuck are you doing?” Monique asked.

            “I...I don’t know! I see a woman crying before me, I instantly assume responsibility and am genetically forced to apologize! I have no CONTROL over it, it’s been hardcoded in to my very being as a MAN!” he shouted. Monique accepted the answer, filed it away for later use (such manipulations can of course prove useful), then returned her attention to her previous target. The woman, wishing desperately that she was just some innocent bystander, caved in.

            “okay...okay...I’ll do what you want...I just wanna go home! Wierd. W...I...E...R...D...” the woman slowly emoted, tears running down her face. A shocked hush filled the room as everyone around, who had all begun paying attention to this little drama in the corner, caught their breath and waited to see what would happen. Monique simply stood before the woman, and laid a hand upon her shoulder, as if to offer comfort. Then, in one brutal movement, she pulled a Webster’s dictionary from seemingly thin air, and brought it down hard upon the head of the mis-spelling heathen. And did so again. And again. Finally, when a matted clump of bloody hair was stuck to the book’s cover, she stopped. The tome disappeared from whence it came, and she sat down next to Atti.

            “You...holy shit...you killed her?!” Atti asked incredulously as she began putting her regular clothes back on.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Atti. And I’m quite sure that, like everyone else here, you saw ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAPPEN, RIGHT?” she asked loudly. The replies came fast and furious from everyone else within the establishment, ranging from “Saw what happen?” to “Damn bitch deserved it!” to “Cheque, PLEASE!” As order seemed to finally return to the place, the group from the theater finally arrived.

            “Hey, Atti, sorry we’re late, but these guys...” Liam started, then saw the corpse in the adjoining booth. He stared at it a moment, then looked over accusingly at Cliff before continuing, “Wonder what sort of instrument could be used to cave in someone’s head...EH, SHOVELLO?”

            “What? Hey, you’ve been in the car with me the whole time! Not ONCE did I get out and run ahead with a shovel!” Cliff shot back. Liam had to agree, though he would be wary. Robot doubles were always a point of concern.

            “Hmmm...wonder what happened HERE?” James asked, staring straight at Monique the whole time.

            “I haven’t the foggiest...but perhaps you wish to pay another visit to...’the room’!” she said back to him in an even voice. James visibly shuddered, then sat down, along with everyone else.

            “Anyway, Atti, sorry we’re...”

            “Hey, she didn’t kill NOBODY, man! Okay?! So let’s just have...uhhh...hey, we’ll just sit here and not start making accusations! I’ve got a family man!? Well, okay, not REALLY a family, but there’s some NICE CHAIRS at my PLACE, right? So what happens when I go away, huh? Some OTHER ass starts enjoyin’...nobody’s even dead! That’s just a prop!?” Atti shrieked, head snapping back and forth maniacally the whole time. By this point, the waitress had come over to the table to take the group’s order. “What?! WHAT?! You a COP! I saw NOTHING...there’s nothing to SEE...she’s just dead...TIRED...dead tired! AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHAAAAAAA!” Not quite prepared to have to deal with crazy Atti, she quickly ran screaming to the manager, handed in her nametag, and left the premises. Witnessing such an exchange occur for the approximately 134th time the first time a new employee had to deal with the group, Carmen simply sighed before forcing herself to come over.

            “Well, that set a new record. I mean, it usually takes Sam a good five minutes to finish his messed up ordering spiel.” she noted dryly.

            “Hey, guys! So, what’s new?” Sam asked as he appeared like clockwork, Dave in tow.

            “NOTHING! NOOOOTTTTHHHHIIINNNNGGGG!” Atti screamed. This caused Sam to break out in to an uncontrollable burst of giggles and monkey screams before he, too, sat down, with Dave.

            “Well, I’ll have the silk pie.” James told her. This caused much eye rolling from his table-mates.

            “Sorry, that’s still gone.” she told him.

            “No, it’s not gone. It was never gone, I just got tired of it. So I stopped ordering it for a short while. But now all is forgiven, and I want my silk pie back. So, if you could just mosey on over to the cooler and get me a slice...I can’t help but notice you’re not moseying...”

            “There is NO SILK PIE!” she told him again, checking her watch as she did so. Four more fucking hours. Son of a bitch.

            “No, it’s in there...it’s just way in the back. That fucking Hershey pie has been bullying poor Silky, so it’s hiding. But it’s in there! So just...” James was cut off as Carmen began choking the life out of him, screaming, “There’s no fucking silk pie!” over and over again as James struggled for breath. Finally, she stopped, and glowered down at him as he gasped for air. Forced to face reality, James broke in to bitter tears.

            “Hey, we all miss the silk pie, man.” Kelly comforted him.

            “But you can’t know what it’s like...for me. It was the one dessert I truly, truly loved unconditionally, and it just LEFT? That fucking DENNY took it from me!” James ranted.

            “Denny had nothing to do with it.” Carmen spoke up, then looked from side to side before leaning in closer. One could never be too careful. Some stores and eateries have secret shoppers...Denny’s has it’s own secret police. “Denny’s HQ received a series of letters from the leader of ‘The Pie Consortium’. He demanded the removal of silk pie from our menu, saying it did not please him. At first, nothing was done...but when several Denny’s locations in the north-eastern states were ransacked by riders on horseback, we had to take it off.”

            “Then this...consortium head is my true target. It’s time I stopped sitting idly by, and did something for my dessert!” James shouted, then stormed off towards the bathroom, backpack in hand.

            Kelly simply watched this entire exchange. He had managed to put the whole weird gnome dream behind him. That was the LAST time he ate some subpar theater pickles before sitting down for four hours of Jar Jar Binks!

            “You’re just not very bright, are you?” he heard someone say to him. As he looked up to fire off some penile-related retort, he saw that the speaker was not a man, but Galein the gnome. Sitting before him. In the same meadow as before.

            “Son of a bitch...what the fuck is WRONG with me?” Kelly screamed at the mysterious world around him.

            “I’ll tell you what’s WRONG with you, you moron, you’re not DOING anything! Why don’t you believe us?” Galein asked, growing angry.

            “I just...I need some sort of sign!” Kelly responded. Galein grabbed an octagonal ‘Stop’ marker, and was about to bash Kelly over the head with it, when a booming voice stopped him in his tracks.

            “No, Galein. I shall give him his...sign.” the voice said. Galein dropped the sign and sat back down on his rock. Kelly looked up towards the heavens, from where the voice had seemed to have come. And soon, floating down from above, appeared a mysterious, yet familiar looking, character.

            “Cliff? What the Hell are you doing here?” Kelly asked, now more confused than ever.

            “I am not this...Cliff of whom you speak. I am known as...author.” At the sounding of that last word, Kelly snapped back reflexively. This author was indeed powerful. He could create, and he could remove...and he really seemed to enjoy removing the nads of those who disobeyed him.

            “Never fear, Kelly, I do not intend to remove any genitalia this story. No, such things have grown stale, and I have matured. Should a story character anger me NOW, I’ll simply close their ass in to one giant cheek! That man or woman shall slowly be smothered by their own need for defecation! AHAHAHAHA!”

            “Ummm...very...adult...sir...” Kelly whimpered.

            “I thought so. Anyway, I am here to tell you, Kelly, that what these gnomes have told you is true. There is indeed an...’Evil One’, and you and your friends are the only ones capable of stopping him.”

            “But...why us?”

            “Convenience. It allows me to use one inside joke after another. Plus, I don’t have to do any of that damned ‘creative thinking’ when it comes to characters, instead allowing me to use my creative energies for such gems as dictionary beatings for seemingly no reason!”

            “I see. Well...I guess I have no choice but to believe.” Kelly relented.

            “Indeed you do not, unless you desire a secluded meeting with a very randy manatee!”

            “No, no, I don’t wanna get no buttfuck from no sea cow!” Kelly screamed.

            “Okay then...I’ll just bring him some fries...” Carmen muttered, then walked off, shaking her head. Everyone else simply stared at Kelly. “Well, you know, I DON’T. What, you DO?” he asked. Everyone quickly answered no, then conversation returned to normal, as Kelly quickly settled back in to his spot in reality. Soon after, the sound of metal crashing to the floor could be heard. At first it was simply put off as a kitchen accident...or perhaps the entire staff taking turns smashing their fists through bowls as they settled in for a long night of dealing with the group. But then it was heard again...and again...and again. And hey, those bowls ain’t cheap, y’know! Plus, it was growing closer.

            “Shit...maybe those consortium guys are here...” Liam hissed.

            “Yes...on their robo-steeds...” Chad shot back. Liam was about to reply in the form of physical violence, when the source of the noise rounded the corner.

            “Now, I shall remove this...consortium of flaky pastries, and get my beloved silk pie back!” James announced as he stood there, dressed head to toe in plate mail armor.

            “I’m pretty sure they’re just consorting over pies.” Liam told him.

            “Well...we can’t be too careful! All’s I knows is they’se gots to be fucked up!”

            “James, where the Hell did you get a suit of armor?” Dave asked. For a moment, nobody spoke in the entire restaurant. Instead, every other occupant, staff and customers alike, simply stared in disbelief. Dave had expressed himself! After a few moments, they recovered their faculties, as did James.

            “It’s been in my bag the whole time. There, patched over that potential plot problem! Anyway, I’m off!” With his query answered, Dave left, forcing Sam to leave as well, what with his lack of alternate transportation.

            “But, James, you don’t even know where to start!” Chad protested.

            “Oh, but I do. Who else is more immersed in the world of pie than one Timothy Brown? I shall travel east and consult with the illustrious Crackerbox Kid himself. If anyone knows the identity of the leader of the pie consortium, it be he!” James told them, then started out...very deliberately...well, slowly, really.

            “Guys, uh, I’ll see ya. I have to go with him.” Kelly stammered as he ran off to catch James. It took about 15 steps.

            “Sorry if I’m blockin’ the way to the can, Harll, but this shit’s heavy! I really should have put it on later, I guess.”

            “Actually, James, I wanna come with. Perhaps this pie consortium head is the man I have been told to...I wanna come with.” James shrugged in agreement, and they started off. They made it to the entryway about twenty minutes later, where they were passed by Sam, Dave, and the two police officers arresting them on charges of ‘blatant homosexuality’. Charges were dropped shortly after when no genetic evidence could be found that indicated Sam was actually a man, thus casting doubt on it even being a same-sex relationship.

 

                                    TWO HOURS LATER, OUT FRONT

 

            “Come on, James, let’s grab a cab to the airport.” Kelly suggested as they stood on the sidewalk.

            “Uhhh...new plan...I think I might have some trouble with those airport metal detectors...” James pointed out, sweat soaking his being beneath the 80 pounds of metal.

            “So just take the armor off at the airport.” Kelly suggested.

            “See...since I figured it’d be hot in here, I’m not actually wearing anything UNDER the armor...and shit is it chafing! Fucking women think they got it bad with an underwire bra...that’s nothing!” James bitched. “Why don’t we catch a train out to Kingston?”

            “Sounds good to me.”

            “Okay then. But first, we have to pick someone else up. He can definitely help on this mission, though he’s really more cock than man.” James told his friend as they finally flagged down a taxi and started clambering in. It nearly tipped over when James sat down, but managed to stay upright, and they headed off with their right wheel well riding on the tire.

            “Okay...you’re creeping me out, but...okay...” Kelly told his friend, really not sure what to make of his last statement. Soon they arrived at the address James had given the driver, and headed in.

            “Guys?! What the Hell are you doing here?” Vlad asked as he looked up from his computer.

            “VLAD is more cock than MAN?” Kelly asked. Just then, Vlad’s brother Boris entered the room, then quickly left. Nobody could really blame him.

            “It’s a long story...a REALLY long story...and one I don’t want to get into.” James told Kelly, really not helping in any way, and, in fact, making things worse.

            “What are you guys DOING here?” Vlad asked again, and James quickly filled him in. [Author’s note : I mean filled him in in the sense that he told him what was going on. Considering the disturbing scenario I just finished laying out, I figured I should make that point totally clear.] Once he had been let in on the plan, Vlad immediately hopped on board. Well, maybe he would have hopped aboard had he not been weighed down by 80+ pounds of metal...and if he’d had a Pogo Ball. But he DID agree to join them!

            “Ummm...Vlad?” Kelly started.

            “Yeah, what’s up?”

            “Now, I understand why James is wearing armor. He’s weird, and we’re questing...” Kelly started, then was cut off as James spent the next thirty seconds shouting “Brigands!” over and over again as loudly as he could. Once the J-man was finished with his ‘soliloquy’, Kelly continued. “But why are you wearing chain mail?” He’d been wondering ever since they arrived, but had only now regained his speech after being confused and mildly revolted by the whole ‘more cock than man’ homoerotic subtext.

            “Well, recently I’ve started Everquesting. But my character sucked, so I headed over to e-bay, and dropped about ten grand to build him up. Included in my purchases was a five hundred dollar set of chain mail...which turned out to be real. And I’m not one to let clothing go to waste!” Vlad explained. “I guess it’s from some S&M shop in Virginia...hence, the leather buttflap.” Vlad continued, standing up to show the circular leather cutout that was thankfully IN PLACE over his ass. Despite now beginning to fear for his well being on this mission, Kelly headed off to catch the train with James and Vlad. This ‘Evil one’ had to be stopped.

 

                                    MEANWHILE, AT THE U of A CAMPUS

 

            “Hey guys, what brings you here?” Kyle asked as he looked up from his microscope. Cliff, Atti, Sam, Dave and Liam strolled in to the lab he was working in. From the other side of the room, Erron waved, then returned to her work.

            “We’re bored...figured you might have some ideas. Say, when did Erron start working here?” Liam asked.

            “Huh? Oh, about a week ago. We recently moved up from pulping wingless flies to pulping kittens. When I told her, I thought she’d be horrified, but to my surprise, she was really gung ho about it! Even asked if she could help, and I needed a new lab assistant, so here she is.” Kyle explained. As he spoke, Erron tossed a mewling kitty in to a blender and flipped it to ‘paste’, cackling with disturbing glee as the small mammal became a chunky puddle.

            “Umm...okay. So, anyway, you guys done soon?” Sam asked.

            “Well, I’ve got one more experiment I need to run, but my three volunteers haven’t shown up yet.” Kyle explained. “But you know, if three of you guys would fill in, I could polish this puppy off, and we could head out sooner.” Cliff, Atti and Liam quickly volunteered, and laughed gleefully as they were led to a trio of glass, see-through pods. Kyle closed them inside, then headed over to a large control panel, and began flipping switches.

            “So, hey, uhhh, what’s this experiment do, anyway?” Cliff asked.

            “I was kind of wondering if SOMEONE was going to ask. Well, what I’m gonna do here is see if I can genetically combine your DNA with that of a cat for a few moments, then turn you back.” Kyle told him.

            “Neat! But, what exactly is this research for?” Sam asked.

            “Well, there is of course the vast amount that can be learned about the creation of genetic freaks...beyond that, not much. But it was the only way I could get a fucking grant from the school! The only experiments they’ll fund anymore are anything that might be broadcast on Fox.” Kyle pointed behind him as he finished where, indeed, a Fox cameraman stood, pointing a full size motion picture cam at the three pods. The operator looked a little bit like the son from Married...With Children.

            “Okay, guys, you ready in there?” Kyle asked the three podded members of the group through a small speaker system. Liam and Cliff replied to the affirmative, but Atti had a question.

            “Uhhh, Kyle, when we’re cats, we aren’t gonna...you know...have to lick ourselves clean or anything, will we? Cause I wanked off in the bathroom at Denny’s before we left, and didn’t have a chance to properly clean myself up. And I’m not interested in snacking on that, kay, man?”

            “Good grief, Atti, I...oh, let’s just see what happens!” Kyle shouted, then started pressing buttons scattered about his console. The pods lit up around the three, and a whirring noise could be heard as they began to take on cat-like characteristics. Sam, Dave and Kyle watched as Liam began to sprout a tail, when they could have sworn they heard a whinny behind them...

            “Erron, what the hell?!” Kyle shouted as he whirled around to find Erron leading a horse in to the lab.

            “It’s a horse, Ky-Ky!” Erron responded.

            “I can see that, but what the Hell is it doing here?”

            “Well, I figured we’ve learned all we can from grinding up cats...so why not move on to something else? Sure, I’ll have to feed him in bit by bit, but it’s all good...I’ve got a smock to keep my clothes clean!” she told him. Indeed, she did have a clear plastic smock on, now.

            “Okay, I gotta put a stop to this bloodlust. Guys, don’t touch ANYTHING.” Kyle told Sam and Dave.

            Gotcha, touch anything.” Sam responded.

            “No...no...touch NOTHING.” Kyle said emphatically.

            “OOOOHHHHH. Okay, I understand.”

            “Seriously, you can’t touch a thing! You could really mess them up in there...” Kyle explained slowly.

            “Oh, really? Heeheehe...yeah, okay...gotcha.” Sam answered. Kyle simply stared at him, really unsure of what Sam was going to do...or not do. But the sounds of equine distress were becoming rather urgent behind him as Erron began cursing loudly and pushing the stubborn beast towards the blender.

            “Okay, ESPECIALLY don’t touch the button under glass.” Kyle told them. Indeed, off to one side on the panel was a large push button marked ‘Permanent Transformation’, with a flip-up glass cover over it.

            “Okay, only touch that button...I understand. “

            “No, no, YOU CANNOT touch that button...okay, Sam?”

            “Yeah, okay, I’ve got it.”

            “Are you sure?” Kyle asked, his query followed by a long pause.

            “Oh, yeah, I understand...” Sam mumbled. Kyle wasn’t sure, and was about to begin on another round of talks, when he heard something revving behind him. He turned to see Erron starting up a skill saw.

            “Hi, Kyle. I can’t get the horse to put it’s head in the blender, so I’m just going to chop it up first!” she explained. He ran over and placed himself between her and the horse. “Ky, I can’t cut up Mr. Horsey if you’re in my way! Now, move, or it’s ‘vroom, vroom’ for you!” she told him in one of those sweet voices only truly disturbed psychopaths use, swinging the saw around in front of herself for added emphasis. As Kyle began wrestling for control of the saw, Sam simply stood...looking. So many shiny buttons...and that one biiiiiiig button.

            “Sam! No!” Dave snapped.

            “What? What am I doing? Looking at the buttons, that’s all!”

            “Sam, if you press that button, you’ll turn them permanently in to cat people!” Dave tried to reason with him, seeing how Sam stared at the one, big button...

            “Oh, I won’t do that. That godawful movie Sleepwalkers was enough of the cat people for a lifetime...but if somehow they could be made in to monkeys...hmmm...” Sam pondered. Then he made his move...selecting a small red button in the center of the board.

            “NO!” Dave shouted, knocking Sam’s hand away, then fighting him away from the control panel. Finally, he won the struggle, and pinned Sam to the lab floor.

            “Oh, you may have defeated me, Dave, but you haven’t stopped me! Go, Omar, finish daddy’s work!” Sam shouted, loosing a labcoat wearing monkey from his jacket. Dave simply thought this was one of Sam’s senseless jabberings, and made sure he had him held away from the buttons. The small ape shrieked, then ran to the control panel and began randomly pressing buttons. Inside the pod chamber, things began to happen...

 

                                    SEVERAL MINUTES LATER

 

            “Are you SURE you’re okay, Erron?” Kyle asked as he led his wife back towards the controls. The horse was being led out by a tech from another lab who had come over to see what all the noise was about.

            “Oh, Kyle, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe what I did to all those poor little creatures! But once I’d killed one, I just couldn’t stop!”

            “Well, at least you didn’t murder anyone, right?” Kyle asked with a chuckle. Erron laughed along, deciding in her mind that this wasn’t the time to mention the three experiment volunteers who had shown up while he was obtaining candy from the vending machines. Later.

            “Dave, this is not the place for that!” Kyle shouted upon seeing for the first time Dave pinning Sam to the floor.

            “Hey, he was gonna fuck up your experiment, okay? I had to stop him!” Dave replied.

            “Well, good job, Dave. Sorry.”

            “Oh, NOTHING has been STOPPED, Kyle!” Sam shouted as he was finally let up by Dave, and began smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt.

            “What do you mean? The experiment’s over, and the guys are back to...AAAAGH!” Kyle screamed as he glanced in to the chamber for the first time. Then he looked to see little Omar jumping up and down on the ‘Permanent Transformation’ button repeatedly, screaming gleefully each time. Sam began to laugh as he picked up Omar and stroked his fur. Then, he too looked in to the chamber and quickly ceased his laughter.

            “Dammit, Omar, I wanted MONKEYS! MONKEYS! And you’ve given me...” he shouted at the ape. Cliff finished his thought.

            “WOMEN?!” Cliff yelled as he looked down to find that, yes indeed, he was a woman. Liam and Atti had been changed as well.

            “And what a woman!” Liam yelled as he began appraising himself, finally reaching his massive rack. “Check these babies out, guys, I’m fucking hot!” he continued.

            “Wow, I dunno who you’re talking about Liam, but you should see the girl in THIS thing...” Atti said. Everyone but Liam, who had begun fondling himself, looked to see Atti staring back towards the pod he had just been standing in.

            “Oh, yeah baby, you want some of me? Eh?” Atti asked the empty pod. Everyone was perplexed, until Kyle noticed Atti’s now-feminine reflection on the back of the pod.

            “Atti, that’s not a girl, that’s...”

            “Kyle, ya mind? I’m a little busy trying to get somewhere here, okay? Bother me later.” Atti sternly suggested to his friend, then went back to hitting on what he thought was a stranger in the pod.

            “Kyle!” Cliff shouted. “KYLE ANDERSON, you LOOK at me! I am SO mad at you right now!”

            “Cliff, listen, I know it looks bad right now, but...”

            “Looks BAD?! Are you saying I’m unattractive, is that it?!”

            “What? I...no...well, yes...no...AAAH! Look, I’ll fix this, okay? Everything will be okay!”

            “Okay? OKAY!? How exactly can you make everything okay when...when...” Cliff began to sob at this point, “When you don’t...you don’t even know what you did?” ‘He’ managed to make it this far, but now just lost it and began to weep.

            “Oh Jesus, Cliff...listen...’man’...I’ll make this...Cliff?” Kyle stammered, “What in the fuck did that stupid little monkey DO?!”

            “Oh yeah...yeah, these are keepers...” Liam mumbled to himself.

            “What the...wait...why am I crying like this?” Cliff asked as he regained control of himself and rose, “I’m not LIKE this I...oh good lord...I AM a woman! I’m irrational! I grab hold of specious points of ‘reasoning’ and refuse to let go! I make no sense half the time! I...I can’t LIVE like this, man! I can’t do this!” he shouted, then turned, lowered his head, and ran full speed in to the brick wall behind the pods.

            “What the...Cliff, what the Hell are you DOING?!” Kyle demanded.

            “Yeah...heehee...go-go rhino!” Liam giggled, then got back to business.

            “I can’t live like this, Kyle! I’m ending it...well, I will once I’m able to stand again...say, you got a knife or something in there? It’d be a lot easier than this.”

            “No, NOBODY is killing themselves, okay? Nobody! We’ll get you back!” Kyle shouted, then turned to Sam.

            “This is YOUR fault, you bastard!” he accused gruffly.

            “Woah...hey...let’s not go throwing blame around like grass seed. I’m a bastard, not a creeping fescue!”

            “I don’t care if you’re Kentucky fucking bluegrass, Sam, you are going to fix this!” Kyle told his friend.

            “But...but it was Omar who did it! I was being held away by Dave...held away from helping stop the monkey gone mad!” Sam told his friends, grabbing the first alibi that flew on by.

            “A likely story! Now...” Erron was about to start in on Sam when they were all interrupted by a loud “OW!” from the chamber. Inside, Cliff had once more regained enough of his faculties to slam headfirst in to the wall. Dave smacked Sam in the back of the head.

            “Dammit, Cliff, I said STOP!” Kyle screamed.

            “Oh, what, and you’re the boss of me? Just because you’re a man, and I’m a woman? I don’t think so! You’d better get out of the stone age, buster!” Cliff retorted, then collapsed in a concussed heap.

            “Okay, this has got to stop...and soon!” Kyle told those outside of the transformation chamber.

            “But it’s impossible! Omar stomped on the ‘Permanent Transformation’ button for so long, it’s now concave!” Sam whined.

            “Sam, that button was just a dummy! Do you REALLY think I’d put any such control anywhere where YOU would be able to find it? Give me a little credit here! No, nothing has been permanently changed. I just wanted to distract you from the panel over here that makes straight people gay. Now, I have to go in to the chamber and sedate Cliff, so...” Kyle started planning, when he noticed Sam was once more eyeing the control panel. “No, SAM has to take this needle in there and sedate Cliff, then herd him, Liam and Atti back in to the pods.”

            “I don’t know how to give anyone an injection!” Sam bitched.

            “Oh, please, you Lebanese people are practically taught that at birth.” Kyle responded as he handed Sam the hypo.

            “Ummm...I don’t think so, unless it has something to do with bomb making.”

            “Look, I don’t CARE! I’m NOT leaving you in here with these controls again! Now get in the damn chamber!” Kyle shouted. Sam continued to hesitate, but Dave eventually pushed him in. Sam huffed, then headed over to where Cliff had managed to regain enough of his faculties to reach a seated position.

            “So, Kyle, we can reverse it?” Dave asked.

            “Oh, not us, him.” Kyle told the others, pointing at Omar, who had remained outside of the chamber.

            “You’re trusting a monkey to turn this accident around?” Dave asked, incredulously.

            “Actually, Dave, monkeys have a very good sense of memory. I’ll simply put him back on the panel, and little Omar here will repeat exactly what he did before, won’t you, Omar?” Kyle asked the monkey as he carried him over to the panel.

            “He’d BETTER remember, or little Omar here’s going through the paper shredder!” Erron growled. The monkey cowered in Kyle’s arms. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry, guys. I’m still a little homicidal, I guess.”

            “No...uhhh...no problem. How’s it going in there, Sam?” Kyle asked. He looked just in time to see Sam drive the long needle in to Cliff’s right eye.

            “No problem, I’m injecting him now.”

            “Sam, you’ve probably blinded his eye, you idiot! Why didn’t you give him the shot in the ARM?” Kyle asked.

            “Hey! You can have it done RIGHT, or done QUICK. And since you gave ME the job, you get neither!” Sam retorted, then dragged Cliff in to his pod and closed the door. Next he led Liam in to his, then Atti.

            “Okay, Omar, I’ll just set you down on the console here, and you do what you did before...okay?” Kyle asked the monkey as he set him down.

            “Yeah, he’ll do JUST fine, WON’T you, little guy?” Erron asked as she pet the little creature just a tad too hard on purpose, motioning over towards the shredder with her head as she did so. It almost appeared that little Omar swallowed hard before he began jumping on buttons, just as he’d done before.

            “Wow, Sam, one of your damn monkeys actually seems to have learned...Sam...Sam?...SAM!” Dave shouted, finally realizing Sam was still in the chamber.

            “Oh no, when Omar reverses them back, he’ll affect Sam as well!” Kyle shouted. He was about to stop Omar, but it was too late. A bright light lit up the room, then, a few seconds later, it was gone. The only sound was that of Omar happily jumping on the dent that had been the fake ‘Permanent Transformation’ button. Then, suddenly, he yelped and flew across the room. His repeated leaps had dug in to the circuitry of the control system, and now the whole machine began to spark and smoke, eventually bursting in to flame. It was quickly doused by a quick thinking Dave and the after-effects of his Big Gulp from the trip over to the university, but it was completely destroyed. Omar was nowhere to be seen.

            “Man, it’s good to be BACK!” Cliff announced as he re-entered the main room, along with the others. “But I think the experiment did something to my eye, man.” he added as he began rubbing the eye that had been pierced just moments earlier.

            “Yeah, I guess...I had the best tits EVER, man!” Liam lamented his mammarial loss, then began caressing his chest, “It just isn’t the same.”

            “Where the Hell is she, Kyle?” Atti demanded.

            “Who?”

            “The chick in the pod! I go in there, thinkin’ maybe somethin’s gonna happen, then I’m suddenly alone, and now I’m in here! What’d you do with the hot girl?!”

            “Atti, there WAS no girl! you were seeing a reflection...”

            “Okay, so it was a REFLECTION of this hot girl, so who made the reflection?!”

            “Don’t you get it? You were...you know what Atti, she left. Just a minute ago.” Kyle lied. It was much easier than explaining the truth.

            “What? And you didn’t STOP her? Man, I’ll never find her now! And she was so HOT. Uhhh...I gotta go home and take care of somethin’ before I forget what she looked like...” Atti muttered, then realized everyone was looking at him. Quickly, he tried to think of a cover. “Uhhh...I’m gonna...uhhh...cross stitch a portrait of her on my crotch...errr...tea cozy. Yeah. Get me a tea cozy...” he explained, then hurried out. Liam slowly followed, sighing deeply as he looked down at his normal chest region.

            “Sam! Sam? Are you...okay?” Dave asked as Sam finally emerged from the pod chamber.

            “Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so. Say, what was with that bright light in there?” Sam asked.

            “Hmmm...interesting...no change seems to have occurred at all in him. It’s as if Sam is both man...AND woman...” Kyle noted.

            “Well, so long as he’s okay. I guess we should catch up to Liam.” Dave suggested, and they all headed out.

 

                                    MEANWHILE, AT SKYREACH CENTER

 

            “Man, that was SUCH a great show!” Shaun told Tracy for the umpteenth time. Once again, Tracy simple rolled her eyes, for live tapings of ‘WWF : Raw is War’ weren’t exactly her idea of a great evening. But, hey, if it meant Shaun now owed her a movie that DIDN’T include lesbian sex scenes or Sylvester Stallone driving real fast, it was all worth it.

            “Oh, my God! Tracy, look...it...it’s him!” Shaun told her. She looked up to see a large man striding in their general direction. “Baby, I KNEW these backstage passes would be worth it! I can’t believe this, it’s THE ROCK!” Shaun shouted, unable to contain his glee. The grappler heard his name shouted, and turned towards the two of them, about ten feet away.

            “Hi there, you a fan?” he asked as he headed over to Shaun and Tracy, hand outstretched.

            “Oh my God, yes!” Shaun replied, dropping to his knees before his god and kissing his hand. After a moment or two, he seemed to realize just what he’d done, and found both Tracy AND Dwayne looking down at him strangely. [Author’s Note : Dwayne is the REAL name of The Rock. Yes, Shaun, it’s true...Rock is not his actual name. I know, I know, it’s the whole Santa thing all over again.]

            “I apologize for my boyfriend...he’s a really big fan.” Tracy told Shaun’s hero as embarrassment flushed her face.

            “Uhhh...yeah. So, what’s your name, anyway?” he asked Shaun, who had stood back up and finally let go of Dwayne’s hand.

            “Oh, I’m Shaun, and I am a HUGE fan, Rock!”

            “Well, hey, that’s all right. but hey, my name’s not REALLY ‘Rock’, y’know...”

            “Oh, shit, I am SO sorry, how fucking impolite am I? I’m a huge fan, MR. Rock!”

            “No, no, you’re not quite...just, call me Dwayne. Really.”

            “Aaaaah, going undercover, eh? Sneaky, Ro...errr...DWAYNE. Heh. That’s a good one, man. Listen, I GOTTA get your autograph...just a second!” Shaun shouted, then ran off to find some paper for his hero to sign, leaving Dwayne and Tracy to simply stand there, waiting for his return.

            “Again, I am really sorry.” she said.

            “Hey, not your fault. Don’t worry about it. Most of my big fans are like this...weird thing is, most of them are named Shaun, too.”

            “Strange.”

            “Yeah. So, does he do me?” Dwayne asked.

            “Hey, I know he BOUGHT that life-size cutout, but I don’t WANNA know what he...”

            “NO! NO! I mean, does he do impressions of me, stuff like that?”

            “What? Oh...OH! Yeah, he’s always lifting his damn eyebrow and referring to himself in the third person.” she told him.

            “Yeah?”

            “Oh yeah. I mean, just this morning he told me, “Dammit, woman, when Shaun says he wants eggs, Shaun means he wants eggs, got it? Now, I smell what you’re cookin’ over there, and it smells to me of pancakes!”” Tracy told Dwayne.

            “Man, that’s kinda weird.”

            “No, not really. I mean, he’s doing his impression all the time, so I’m sort of used to it by now.”

            “Well, not ALL the time...I mean...not ALL the time, right?” Dwayne asked.

            “I caught him doing it in his sleep the other night.”

            “Jesus, that’s a bit much...but certainly not when the two of you are...well...you know, you’re...”

            “Oh, yeah, then too.” she responded, covering her face as she spoke.

            “Oh my...okay, that’s just plain weird!” Dwayne shouted as Shaun returned, carrying a program.

            “Hey, DWAYNE...hehheh...anyway, would you sign this for me?” he asked.

            “Yeah, sure bud, but then I think maybe you should...”

            “I was thinking, maybe you wanna come out for coffee? You’d love the guys, man, they’re so crazy! They’re all “Let’s throw Christopher Reeve off a building” and stuff. Fuckin’ funny, y’know? It’d be great!” Shaun told his ‘friend’. Dwayne simply stared at him with abject horror, then hurried through the act of signing the book, and handed it back to Shaun.

            “Well, that really sounds GREAT, really...but uhhh...I have to...”

            “And then maybe after that, you could come back home with Tracy and I. I dunno, maybe we have a few drinks to loosen things up a bit, then...well...you know, head on up to the ol’ bedchamber, maybe...well...”

            “WOAH! Hey, listen man, that sounds GREAT...REALLY it does...but I just remembered, I...uhhh...I have to...well, that damn Stone Cold Steve Austin is still around here somewhere...and I still have to lay the smack down on him. So, um, maybe next time, okay?” Dwayne stammered.

            “Oh. That’s too bad. But, well, I smell what you’re cookin’, so I guess I understand. Too bad, though.” Shaun told Dwayne, disappointment entering his voice.

            “Yeah. Well, like I said, I gotta go, so...later, right?” Dwayne told him, gave Tracy a long look of pity, then walked quickly down the hall and around a corner.

 

                                    MEANWHILE, JUST OUTSIDE TORONTO

 

            “Man, those bullet trains sure are something, eh?” James asked Vlad as the two of them, with Kelly in tow, stood amongst others in the crowd of the big ‘Shitstock : Toronto’ concert.

            “Pretty amazing! And so fast!” Vlad concurred.

            “If only you two idiots weren’t clad in heavy armor, we would have been here a good hour ago! And the poor readers wouldn’t have been subjected to that frightening try for a three-way by Shaun!” Kelly yelled.

            “Hey, slow and steady wins the race, Kelly!” James shot back.

            “What race would that be, Mr. Keller? Huh? Christ. And what the fuck are we DOING here, anyway?” Kelly asked.

            “Well, I just figured that this is the PERFECT place for a leader of a ‘Pie Consortium’ to hide, right? I mean, who’s expecting him HERE?”

            “Oh, that’s brilliant, James. But, how do you know he’s not across the street at the big ‘Crapfestival’ show, huh?” Kelly asked.

            “Man, that’s just stupid. Why would he be there?” James asked, sarcasm spewing forth from his mouth like a bilous font.

            “Yeah. Kelly, sometimes you just don’t think, man.” Vlad agreed. Kelly resigned himself to the fact that he was pretty much stuck here with these two boobs, since he’d probably need them for his big showdown with ‘The Evil One’. Just as he finished that thought, a voice came over the loudspeaker.

            “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Shitstock! Are you READY? Well then, please welcome...SARAH MCLACHLAN!” As her name reverberated throughout the place, she came strolling out and sat at the on-stage piano.

            “Hello, Toronto. My publicist just finished telling me that in the last 3 minutes, something like 15,000 people died on this planet. So I’ll be playing “I Will Remember You” for the next hour and a half in their memory.” she explained, then began to play.

            “Man, this is gonna be rough, huh James? Uhhh...James?” Kelly asked, seeing James was no longer beside him. Through sheer force of will, James had managed to break in to a full-on sprint, the armor not encumbering him any longer as adrenaline powered him up on to the stage, where he drew his sword, and cut Sarah McLachlan down in to a heap of quivering, bloody flesh.

            “Enough is enough, bitch!” he shouted as he brought the blade down once more before the stagehands could grab him and start pulling him away from the corpse. Once more, the voice came over the loudspeaker.

            “Okay, well, I guess THAT’S over, so let’s bring out our headliner for the day...please welcome...SISQO!”

            “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Vlad bellowed as he, too, began dashing towards the stage, sword already drawn.

            “Kelly, what the Hell are you doing here with these idiots?” a now familiar voice asked Mr. Harll.

            “Galein...well, I figured this consortium head James was seeking was ‘The Evil One’.” Kelly told the gnome.

            “Well, he’s not! Geez! Are we SURE that THESE people are the ones who can stop ‘The Evil One?’” Galein shouted, looking up to the sky. From out of the clouds came the author’s hand, thumb up. “Okay, okay, we’ll work with what we’ve got, I guess.” The hand disappeared.

            “Galein, can’t you tell me ANYTHING about the one who I seek?” Kelly pleaded.

            “I can.” Hazabas said as he came in to the scene.

            “Well...what? Get on with it!” Kelly demanded impatiently.

            “No, Hazabas, you will be struck down by the author! You can’t...”

            “Silence, Galein! Kelly...the one you are seeking...is evil...”

            “Oh, well, THANK you, Mr. Oppenheimer, you’ve cleared up the whole MYSTERY for me!” Kelly shouted.

            “Shut up...SHUT UP. Fucking MORONS these humans are!” Hazabas snarled.

            “But at least they don’t do the chewing.” Galein pointed out.

            “Fucking dogs...oh, I hate those dogs...ANYWAY! Kelly, what I was going to SUGGEST is you seek out evil PLACES. Now, yes, Southern Ontario certainly is a center of pomposity, but not of EVIL. YOU need EVIL.” Hazabas explained. Then he was gone, and Kelly was back in reality, watching Vlad pull the intestines out of a still-screaming Sisqo, like a twisted take on the clown with the neverending string of interconnected hankies. He turned and headed out of the park, slowly trudged to the train station, and boarded the next bullet to Edmonton. He had realized that he couldn’t solve this puzzle on his own. And traveling with Vlad and James, bless their homicidal hearts, was virtually that. It was time to get the whole group involved.

 

                        BACK AT DENNY’S IN EDMONTON, LATER THAT DAY

 

            “Guys, I have something I need to tell you all!” Kelly announced as he strode up to the table.

            “Oh, HERE we go, another voyage on the SS Michelle...man, if it wasn’t for my sore eye, I’d pummel your dumb ass!” Cliff retorted.

            “What? No! This has nothing to do with the French! Listen...I’ve been having these visions...” Kelly began.

            “Of sugarplums dancing in your head? Weird. Hey, what’s that LIKE, anyway? I mean, do they have little arms and legs that move about, or do they just sit there on the counter or what not and quiver to the beat?” Liam asked.

            “I wouldn’t no. No, they weren’t sugarplums, they were...gnomes.”

            “So, dancing gnomes? Well, I really don’t see what’s funny about that at all, man, but to each their own, I guess.” Liam told him.

            “WILL you shut UP?! Listen, these gnomes told me I have a purpose!” Kelly shouted.

            “Well, we all have a purpose, Kelly. And hey, if yours is to dance with fruit, then you be the best goddamn fruit dancer there ever was.” Cliff said in support.

            “There is no dancing involved, okay? And...what’s the deal with the eyepatch?” Kelly asked.

            “Cliff’s become a butt pirate, didn’t anyone tell you?” Shaun asked as he and Tracy joined the table.

            “Cliff’s no ass bandit! Now, if Kyle would’ve let me at those controls...” Sam muttered, a little too audibly, drawing stares of confusion.

            “No, I was just a woman is all. But hey, Tracy, Erron, how do you two DEAL with that whole ‘being a woman’ thing? I mean, I was one for, like, five minutes, and my eye is fucking KILLING me!” nobody really knew where to begin responding to that, so after a few moments of confusion, Kelly simply changed the subject.

            “Guys, seriously, I had these visions, where these gnomes told me that some ‘Evil One’ is posing a threat to the Earth, and that we have to stop it.” Kelly put forth.

            “You know...normally that’s the sort of thing I’d laugh at, but I’m getting this weird feeling of Deja Vu...” Kyle mentioned.

            “Yeah, me too...something about...some guy...’Jupiter Boy’...’Neptune Guy’...something like that?” Liam added.

            “What the Hell are you talking aboot?” Monique asked as now SHE joined the parade of joining the assembled coffee clan.

            “Aboot? Oh, fine work, dictionary girl!” Chad shouted. She glared at him, causing him to rear back in fear, and elicit a high, snorty whining sound, sort of like how rabbits scream if they think they’re going to die.

            “Hey, aboot is a word...in Newfoundland! So it’s TOTALLY legal!” she shouted. The slight shadowing that only she had noticed beginning to appear around her faded as the giant Webster’s which HAD been dropping towards her from the sky faded back up in to the clouds. Punishments for misspelling dictionaryists were swift and brutal.

            “Listen, guys, let’s let Kelly finish. Kelly, what’s been going on?” Tracy asked him. And he filled them in on everything that had happened to that point.

 

                                    A FEW MINUTES LATER

 

            “Wow...well, I’m glad you let us in on this whole deal, man. Sounds like we have a fight in our future.” Kyle said as Kelly finished speaking.

            “I can’t believe it!” Liam shouted, grief tingeing his speech.

            “I know man, I know...a menace that threatens the world, and only we can stop it.” Cliff said.

            “No, I mean, Sisqo’s DEAD, man! the guy was a burgeoning musical GENIUS! ‘The Thong Song’...’The G-String Tune’...’The Bikini Brief (Glorified Cock Pouch) Medley’, that guy was GOING places!” Liam managed to finish his thought before he began to openly cry. From nowhere, Cliff pulled out a small children’s beach shovel and prepared to smack Liam with it’s plastic blade, but was stopped and had it taken away by Erron.

            “Fine, we’ll just NEVER practice, then!” Cliff snarled, then started to stare out the window and sulk.

            “So, who is this ‘Evil One’, anyway?” Monique asked.

            “I don’t know...the gnomes couldn’t tell me. I guess some ‘author’ guy would do stuff to them if they did help.” Kelly told the group. Upon mention of the name ‘author’, every male in their little band covered his genitals with his hands.

            “What the...man, this is NOT the place for that!” Monique objected.

            “What? Oh...no...this was just...reflexive somehow...when that name was said...weird.” Liam spoke softly as, slowly, every male once more put their hands up on the table.

            “So, how do we figure out who this guy is, anyway?” Sam asked. This was a good question.

            “That’s a great question, man.” Chad pointed out, going A LITTLE FAR, I should say...

            “Well, that WAS a GOOD question...right?” Chad asked. Nobody else really understood, (but yes it was), and he quickly went on, “What we NEED is to get our minds off of this whole problem.”

            “Good plan, Chad, good plan. Hey, let’s go mini-golfing!” Cliff shouted. He’d forgotten why he was angry, and was ready to re-join the group.

            “Sure, but, hey, should we call Atti?” Dave asked.

            “No, Atti’s pretty much banned from every mini-golf course in the Edmonton area because of the rages he gets on the links. Anyway, he’s...busy with his...hobby.” Kyle told them. The group collectively shrugged, then headed off to the Whitemud Amusement Park.

 

                                                BACK IN ONTARIO

 

            “See, I TOLD you they had Denny’s out here!” James yelled at Vlad, you simply shrugged as they slogged their way in to the eatery. [Author’s note : I honestly don’t have a clue whether or not Denny’s does exist in Southern Ontario, but it’s necessary for continuity.]

            “Man, I can’t believe I got a five hundred dollar fine for slaughtering that wannabe hip-hop bitch!” Vlad lamented.

            “HA! You deserved it!” James told him.

            “Easy for you to say...you were presented with the Order of Canada for putting an end to Sarah McLachlan’s reign of easy listening terror.”

            “Yeah, hey...I do what I can, buddy, I do what I can.” James told his friend as they finally reached the front of the restaurant. They were becoming a little more accustomed to the mass of metal they were each wearing. Once they succeeded in reaching the front, a familiar face stood there.

            “Tim?!” Vlad asked.

            “What the...Vlad...James...what are you guys doing out here?” he asked, slowly turning to face them as he, too, was still learning the finer points of maneuvering whilst clad in plate mail.

            “Looking for some guy who got rid of the silk pie. Say, you wouldn’t know anything about it, being a fine, upstanding pie-loving sort yourself, would you?” James asked.

            “Uhhh...end of silk pie you say? Uhhh...no...I...I hadn’t heard anything about anything like that.” Tim told them, eyes shifting from one side to the other repeatedly as he spoke. “Hey, I just remembered I have to go get some lunch, so if you guys will excuse me, I’ll just...” he added, as he turned towards the door.

            “Umm...Tim...you know, Denny’s has food, being a RESTAURANT and all.” Vlad pointed out.

            “Oh...haha...musta forgotten where I was, is all! It certainly does. It certainly...does.”

            “So, you wanna join us for some chow?” James asked. Tim grudgingly agreed, and the three of them slowly headed to the nearest table.

            “May I take your order?” the waitress asked as she walked over, then saw Tim, and added, “Oh, THERE you are! I thought you’d left. Anyway, I checked, and we’re silk pie free, so you can just tell your little mob to go away, okay?” before she headed off.

            “Well...that was strange, I mean, why would she...why would you want to know...that?” James asked.

            “Oh, it’s...uhhh...they’ve had some problems with the water in this town, shoulda told you right off. Something in it’s driven the whole town crazy. Me with a mob, asking suspicious questions about pie...INDEED!” he began to chortle. Vlad and James didn’t join him.

            “Well, Tim, I have to say, I’m looking out the window right now, and I DO see an armor clad mob out there.” Vlad told him.

            “Oh...well...oh...OH NO! Vlad’s had the water!” Tim shouted.

            “No he hasn’t, we haven’t been in town LONG enough to drink any water!” James shot back.

            “Well, you know, that whole evaporation thing, and you’re making with the breathing, and...yeah...that’s why you’re seeing the ‘mob’ out there, supposedly with torches and swords, riding massive black stallions. At least, that’s what I’ve HEARD from other hallucinators.”

            “Tim, how is it that everyone in this building sees the mob except you?” James asked.

            “Well, I haven’t had any water.”

            “You just told us it was in the AIR.”

            “Well, I just don’t breathe.”

            “You don’t...breathe?” James asked.

            “No, I uhhh...I had some gills put in. So I don’t breathe in the normal way...and the gills filter out all the stuff that makes ya see things.” Tim told them. “Hmm...I hear the Buffalo Chicken Burger’s mighty good...”

            “For God’s sake, Tim, they’re WAVING at you!” Vlad yelled.

            “Ummm...who are?”

            “The horse-riding mob outside, you twit!”

            “Oh, you must be mistaken. I don’t talk to people who don’t exist...mom told me they like to lie.” Just then, one of the riders headed over to the window beside the table the three were seated at, and broke the window open.

            “Sir, you haven’t told us what the silk pie status is here. Do we burn it?” he asked Tim, who simply stood there.

            “I...uhhh...I think he’s talking to you.” Tim said to James.

            “But I thought he wasn’t THERE.” James came back with.

            “I...you...he...oh, FINE! FINE! You want the leader of ‘The Pie Consortium’? Do ya? Well, he’s sitting RIGHT HERE, boobie!” Tim shouted, then stood and attempted to toss the table aside. But, unfortunately for him, it was bolted to the floor. So after a little bit of heaving, he simply stopped and motioned for James to stand.

            “You...YOU are responsible for the desecration of the Denny’s dessert menu? But...you’re the pieman! How could one such as you end the existence of A PIE?!” James asked, shocked at what he’d heard.

            “The silk pie was crap! It was an embarrassment to pies everywhere! Call that...that THING a pie...put it in the same league as a fruit pie...and you might as well start calling a chicken a pig! So I ACTED...I had the BALLS to DO something about the denigration of desserts in this world. And you wanna know something? I regret nothing!” Tim snarled, “Well, okay, going out with Mary wasn’t a bright choice, but aside from THAT, I regret nothing.”

            “Do you truly realize what you’ve DONE?” James asked.

            “I’ve done the world a favor! And I’m gonna do it another one next week when I demand the Wu-Tang Clan be restricted to no more than five members at one time!”

            “But I thought you were a PIE Consortium?”

            “Well, like all consortiums, I’ve since expanded my base of operations. I now plan to shape the world in MY image! Yes...YES...it shall be the way I want!”

            “I CANNOT let this continue! You’ve darkened my very existence with your tyrannical ways, you powermongering bastard! No, it ends here!” James shouted in response, then drew his sword. Vlad cheered him on from his seat as he began to dig in to his burger.

            “Woah...hey...do we REALLY have to take it that far? Come on, man, let’s take it EASY, here.” Tim suggested to James.

            “What...what are you talking about? We HAVE to duel, man, it’s just what people DO in this situations.”

            “Oh. Well, you know, it’s just that I’m not very good with conflict.” Tim admitted.

            “So, you’re a power-hungry villain who doesn’t deal well with conflict?” James asked.

            “Well, I’m getting better! I mean, Toastmasters has REALLY helped me with my public speaking...”

            “I don’t give a flying fuck! We’re gonna GO, okay?” James told him, then raised his sword once more.

            “Fine, you wanna be that way, fine, we’ll do things YOUR way. Jesus, they say I refuse to back off...let’s go...” Tim muttered, then started towards the door.

            “Where the Hell are you going?” James asked.

            “Hey, YOU’RE the one whose so eager to FIGHT, so let’s go to the...Arena of Death...” James shrugged, sheathed his weapon, and followed Tim out the door...towards destiny.

 

 

                                    BACK IN EDMONTON

 

            “So...how’d everyone do?” Kyle asked as he tallied his score. Most had done well, with the occasional score so high, that, were the participants Japanese, ritualistic suicide would have been demanded. Then they reached Chad’s scorecard.

            “SIX? How did you get a SIX? There’s EIGHTEEN HOLES, you cheating bastard!” Liam shouted.

            “No, really, I was with him...he’s not lying. He’d just drop the ball on the tee, and, BANG, it’d roll in to the fucking hole!” Kelly told the rest of the group. “In reality, he ACTUALLY got a zero, but he felt he had to put SOMETHING on there.”

            “Wow...that’s crazy, man. I guess you’ve found a ‘sport’ you’re pretty good at, Chadley.” Liam told his friend, patting him on the back as he spoke...and accidentally knocking him on to his face.

            “Thanks, man...do you...do you realize what this means?” Chad asked as he picked himself up off the turf, a bit of mania entering his voice as he spoke his words.

            “Uhhh...you’re good at things that require no physical skills at all?” Cliff asked.

            “No, you fool! Here...on this course...I am a GOD...this is MY domain! And I shall rule it! AHAHAHA!”

            “But...uhhh...Mr. ‘God’ guy, didn’t I just knock you over by merely...” Liam started.

            “Please! I was simply unbalanced due to my discovery of these hidden powers! No, this place shall be my place of vengeance...I WILL have my revenge here! Sam, give me your phone!” he shouted, snatching away Sam’s cell, and beginning to taunt the dozens of people who had beaten and humiliated them in high school, and inviting them to the course to “Meet their doom!”

 

                                                BACK EAST

 

            “So...you know, like I was saying...pretty nice arena.” James told Tim, who was standing about thirty feet away, facing him.

            “Well, thank you, James...I have put a good deal of work in to it. Say, what would you think of maybe adding a couple of fishponds to the place? You know, liven it right up.”

            “Well...I dunno, I mean, I think it would just distract people from the purpose. A little too busy for my tastes.”

            “Yeah...yeah...I see what you mean. Good point. Excuse me...” he told James, then turned to face one of his minions, perched in a control box about fifty feet away that was raised off of the ground. “Let’s get a move on, Davis! Play the fucking music!”

            “Sorry, boss, I think I found it here...here, is this is?” the minion shouted back. Soon after his voice faded out, it was replaced by that of Tom Jones.

            “No, NO, that’s not the fight music, you twit! I TOLD you, the STAR TREK gladiator music, moron!” Tim screamed. Tom Jones abruptly shut up.

            “Maybe I should do it for him again.” James suggested.

            “Yes, perhaps.” Tim agreed. now, James turned to face Davis.

            “It goes like this...dadaDADADADADAdaDadadaDAda, okay, then...dadadadaDADADADAdadadadaDADADADA...”

            “Are you SURE that isn’t a Belinda Carlisle song?” Davis asked.

            “NO...it is NOT Belinda Carlisle! Just...LOOK! It HAS to be in there SOMEWHERE!” Tim screamed.

            “Look, it’s not here, okay? I TOLD you that cleaning lady was stealing from us! I’m outta here...” Davis responded, then stormed off in a fit of pique.

            “I’m very sorry, James...this lack of professionalism is embarrassing to say the least.”

            “Oh, hey, no biggy, Timmo. I mean, can’t be too many good minions out there for a low price.” James told his friend.

            “Yes, isn’t that true. Well, I really don’t see us getting any dueling done today. Davis usually sulks by himself for a good six hours when he gets a mad on, and nobody else knows how to even operate a simple CD player. Would tomorrow be okay?” Tim asked.

            “Aaaaahhhh...that’s a little tight, actually. Vlad and I should really be getting back and stuff. Man, this really sucks, I was looking forward to dueling with the head of the consortium!”

            “I know, I know, but what can you do, right? I mean, we could fight WITHOUT the gladiator music, I suppose...” Tim suggested, then doubled over in laughter at the idiocy of that thought. James fell on to his back and rolled around a bit, he was laughing so hard. At that point, Vlad, who was sitting in the gallery area, began yelling out the music himself.

            “Oh, oh my...Vlad, that’s just not going to cut it...good likeness, though...” Tim shouted as he wiped a tear from his eye and headed over to help James up.

            “Thanks man...whew...so, uhhh, what ARE we gonna do, then?” he asked.

            “Well...I mean, we could pursue some OTHER method of settling the score. Hopscotch, perhaps? Maybe a good ol’ fashioned drinking game?” Tim offered.

            “Nah, I really had my heart set on a gladiatorial contest to the death. I guess we could just go get something to eat...I am kinda hungry...”

            “Yes, yes, that seems in order. Some really crispy fries, maybe?” Tim suggested.

            “Now, on THAT, we are AGREED.”

 

                                                BACK WEST

 

            “And what have we learned, Chad?” Liam asked his bloody, bruised and broken friend as he helped him up after bully number 17 had finished with him.

            “That my mini-golf powers extend no further than my amazing abilities at mini-golf itself.” Chad droned. “Well, how many left?”

            “Oh, only about 6 or 7, although there could be a few stragglers.” Liam told him, then backed away as the next bully who had been promised an “asskick sandwich” stepped forward and began pounding on Chad.

 

                        MEANWHILE, IN SOME MYSTERIOUS LOCATION

 

            A shadowy figure stood in the middle of his shadowy room, watching a pair of glowing spheres which hung in the center of the room itself of their own volition. On one sphere, the faces of Vlad, James and Tim could be seen. On the other, he watched as the final bully beat the crap out of what was left of Chad, with everyone else watching.

            “So, these are the ones who seek to end my reign before it can even, truly begin? HAHA! Destroying them shall be a FOLLY!” he shouted.

            “Careful, my love...they should not be underestimated.” a female voice suggested from somewhere off in the dark pitch of the room.

            “Please! Underestimation is simply an impossibility when dealing with such morons as these! They’re pathetic! And I shall put an end to them...now...” he told her, then began casting his twisted magics.

 

                                    A WAY OUT ONTARIO WAY

 

            “Tim, I’ll admit it, I thought you were crazy, man...but the fries with the chicken soup stock on ‘em...they’re quite simply the shit!” James confessed to his friend as he polished off a second plate of said snack.

            “Well, believe me, James, I also considered the idea all...how do you kids put it, ‘wack’...when I heard about it. But I soon made the discovery you just did, it’s fantastic!”

            “Yeah. Too bad Vlad couldn’t be here...he probably would have enjoyed these...” James lamented.

            “Now, now, James, he has to learn...you just can’t go on slaughtering people you don’t like.”

            “But...but isn’t that basically what YOU did, eh, Mr. consortium leader?” James asked.

            “Oh HO...so it IS, so...it is...fine form, James, fine form...indeed...hahaha.” Tim chuckled. Indeed, the ribbing had been good. As the laughter drew to a close, a strange sound could be heard from somewhere in the distance. A weird, quick tone of sorts, obviously meant as a warning of...something...

            “My God...it’s the miasma early warning system!” James shouted, jumping to his feet with such haste that he knocked the table over.

            “The...what?” Tim asked, a look of confusion coating his face like a paste...a really confusing paste.

            “Miasma, Tim! A miasma!”

            “I’m afraid I really don’t know what it is you’re talking about.”

            “Oh, come ON! How can a friend of Cliff’s not know what a freaking MIASMA is! It’s...okay...a miasma is a mass of...well, it’s like everything...and like nothing...” James stammered, trying to find the right words to make Tim understand.

            “Oh, I get it! So, a miasma is a philosophy class! Gotcha! But, why the Hell are we so scared of that?” Tim asked.

            “No, you fool, it’s...it’s...dear God, it’s THAT!” James shouted, then took off running as the far wall to Tim’s domicile came crashing inward. Tim looked to see what would make such a thing happen, and was confronted with a huge, quivering mass. It was shapeless, yet at the same time, parts of it would take on every shape imaginable to the human mind. Well, you know, a human mind in early development, when shapes consisted of simple geometric forms, the occasional plush toy, and the horrifying faces normally sedate adults make around small children, faces which would haunt them till the end of their days.

            “Dear God! It’s destroyed the fridge!” Tim shouted. The wall smashing had indeed brought many an appliance down, but none so large as the refrigerator. And from beneath it, an ever-expanding multi-hued puddle began to form and grow.

            “NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Not the JELLO!” Tim shrieked, then drew his sword and advanced on the shape that had wrought such horror and mayhem.

            “Tim, you idiot, get OUT of there!” James shouted from outside the door. But Tim continued on.

            “That Jello wasn’t fifteen minutes old! It never had a chance to live, to solidify, even! And it was CHERRY, you unfeeling prick!” he raged at the ‘beast’ before plunging his sword in to it. True, the blade did penetrate the creature, but it did no damage. Rather than allow itself to be sliced by the blade, the creature simply changed it’s shape instantaneously and absorbed the foreign object in to itself. As James ran from the house, he could hear the screaming begin. He simply hoped that Vlad was okay.

 

 

                                    OUTSIDE THE LOCAL POLICE STATION

 

 

            “Uhhh...guys? Guys?” Vlad asked out in to the now-empty room. Great. Terrific. Everyone was gone. Man, you kill a few of Beyonce Knowles’ seemingly inexhaustible supply of Destiny’s Child backup singers, and they just up and toss you in the damn clink. He’d been here for four hours. And God, did his ass hurt! Sure, he’d heard the warnings about prison’s effects on the human rear end, but he’d never known such shame! Slowly, he turned to face his cellmate, the one responsible...

            “Hey, listen, it ain’t MY fault you sat on a fucking nail, is it?!” the man shouted for about the twentieth time. Sure, he SOUNDED all innocent, but Vlad still suspected him of resting the nail there on purpose. It had seemed to line up with the one weak spot in his armor, the leather buttflap, just a little TOO perfectly.

            “Fine, whatever...all I wanna know is where the fuck the entire police force went!” he screamed.

            “Din’t you hear none? That was the miasma alarm ringing a bit back...miasmas is nasty little creatures, you don’ wan’ be...”

            “Hey, I KNOW what a fucking miasma is, I’m friends with a guy who’s obsessed with the fucking things! He always told me that knowledge of miasmas would save me one day, while those who didn’t know might not BE so lucky...but that alarm went off quite awhile ago, and still, nobody’s come back.” He told his ‘buddy’, then shook the bars with rage. To his surprise, the cell door opened due to the vibration. Vlad turned and looked back at his compadre.

            “Hey, they forgot to lock the door!”

            “Aaaah, they din’t forget nuthin’, there ain’t no lock to lock up, fool!” Vlad looked. Indeed, this cell door had no lock.

            “Then why the fuck should we even stay in here?”

            “Hey, maybe YOU don’t respect the honor system, but it’s kept Canada’s prison system going strong for fifty odd years now.”

            “Well, you and your morals have a good time, but I’m OUTTA here!” Vlad told his compadre, then took off out of the cell, shouting “YOINK!” as loudly as he could on his way out the door.

            “Hey, HEY, you’re bringing down our entire system of laws, I’ll have y’know, y’bastard type guy! AND YOU ONLY SAY YOINK WHEN YOU STEAL SUMTHIN’, YA’ FUCKIN’ IMBECILE!

 

            BACK AT THE MINI GOLF COURSE, AT THE SAME TIME OF THE

                                    MIASMA’S EMERGENCE IN THE EAST

 

            “Well, glad THAT’S finally over. It was starting to hurt!” Kyle announced as Liam and Cliff kept Chad held upright. The line of beatings was finally exhausted. Chad shot Kyle a look that said “Hey, I was the one getting my ass beat, and if it weren’t for my jaw being broken, I’d have a few things to say to YOU right now, mister!”

            “Hey, look, I’m sorry, but after four hours of sitting on the pavement, my ass is a little raw, okay?” Kyle said. Suddenly he was hit with the spooky feeling that somewhere else, someone else he knew was going through the same sort of torment...

            “So, what do we do now? I mean, we STILL don’t know who the guy is we’re looking for, do we?” Liam asked the group.

            “No, not yet. There HAS to be SOMEBODY who can help us!” Kelly shouted. Then, as he finished talking, a little monkey appeared. Then another...and still another...each of them with binoculars hanging by a strap around their neck, wearing cheezy explorer clothing. Everyone in the group stopped, then looked over at Sam as the little guys drew closer.

            “What? WHAT? Man, how come you guys always assume the monkeys are MY doing?! I mean...maybe they escaped from a zoo!” he whined. But the ruse was pretty much up when one of the apes leapt in to his arms.

            “Eeek EEEKEEK EEEEEEK!” it screamed.

            “What sort of mass?” Sam asked it. It repeated the same comment, then began waving it’s arms about. the other two quickly followed suit.

            “Wait a minute...you are all supposed to be in different sectors, yet you all claim to have seen the same approaching mass...have you three been grooming each other again while on guard duty?!” Sam challenged them. The three quickly produced lice from their own fur, proof that they had indeed all seen this creature, and NOT been busy consuming insects from one another.

            “Shit...sounds like a miasma!” Cliff shouted.

            “Oh, you and your fucking miasmas! I’m sick of your damn miasmas! Did you HEAR the miasma alarm? No? Didn’t think so!” Liam cajoled.

            “Man, it’s like that story, ‘The Boy Who Cried Miasma’. One day, Cliff, REAL miasmas will come back again, and nobody will believe you!” Erron shouted, then smacked Cliff upside the head.

            “Weird. Little Vasco, here...” Sam began, motioning towards the monkey he was holding, “...keeps saying something about a...beefy smell?”

            “Oooo...free hamburger promotion! Guys, we gotta get out there!” Liam shouted, hopping with glee.

            “Free hamburgers?” Kyle asked.

            “Hey, it COULD be, you don’t know! ‘See the thing, have a burger’, makes sense to me!” Liam shouted again. Before anyone could argue further with this ‘logic’, he was seated in his car, blasting the horn to try and coax his friends in to joining him. Since they WERE curious to see what the Hell was going on out there, they hopped in to their various vehicles, and headed off...East.

 

                                                A HALF HOUR LATER

 

            “My GOD, what a STENCH!” Tracy moaned as she covered her face. The group stood, watching, as off in the distance, a large, brown mass seemed to blanket the horizon. And it was moving towards them at a surprisingly high rate of speed.

            “What happened? Did someone run over a herd of cattle while trying to escape that thing’s path?” Erron asked.

            “You know, I just can’t shake this...familiar feeling, here...anyone else getting a little deja vu?” Liam asked. Cliff and Kelly quickly nodded in the affirmative.

            “Well then, oh great sages, what IS it? Huh? HUH?” Kyle sarcasmed. [Author’s note : Hey, it’s a word now, got it? You got a problem with that, bring it, ya dictionary nazi mofo!]

            “It’s obvious.” Liam told the group, and from the look on his face, it seemed as though he had reached a conclusion...something that would explain all...”It’s some sort of...beef stew.”

            “Beef stew? You’re telling me that, what, some sort of beef stew supertanker tipped over somewhere down the North Saskatchewan, and it’s thick cargo is now spreading across the grassland towards Edmonton?” Kyle asked, again sarcasming.

            “Dammit, man, listen!” Liam yelled, nailing Kyle with an uppercut for good measure...then a jab...then a body blow-right cross combo that dropped him. Eventually, the others in the group pulled Liam off of the now prone Kyle, and ended the rain of haymakers he had been landing. “Uhhh...sorry...just emphasizing my point...heh. Ahem. ANYWAY, guys, it’s time to face the barely believable, and somewhat revolting, facts. A giant wave of beef stew is approaching us. But not just any beef stew...this is some sort of horrific...Deathstew!” At the utterance of the last word, everyone gasped while the monkeys shrieked angrily. All except Kyle, who began sneaking up behind Liam with a board he’d found on the ground, and started to raise...

            “Are you calm?!” Liam asked loudly after he’d had Kyle in the headlock for a few seconds. Kyle stubbornly tried to hang on, but eventually relented. He was indeed calm.

            “Best to be sure, Lum!” Cliff shouted, then raised the shovel above his head. Where was he keeping these damn things? Liam quickly wrested control of the shovel away, and put Cliff in a headlock, asking him the same question. Finally Cliff did indeed calm, and Liam released him, then continued, “Perhaps this ‘Evil One’ is testing us, did you ever consider that? Huh? And his test is a seemingly endless sea of Deathstew! And only we can stop it from sweeping over Edmonton, a cataclysmic flood of peas, carrots and beefy broth!” All accepted it...what else could they do?

            “But what can we DO aboot it?” Monique asked, then quickly followed up her question by turning her gaze skyward, and shouting, “It is TOO a word!” She had been following up every use of aboot in a similar manner ever since the first time, but it didn’t make it any less weird.

            “Well...hey, maybe we could eat it?!” Shaun asked.

            “No...won’t work...I had a big lunch.” Liam told him.

            “I’ve GOT it!” Cliff shouted as he once more brandished the shovel Liam had thrown away.

            “What? What can we do?”

            “Huh? Oh, I don’t know what to do about that, but, look, I got my shovel back.”

            “Dammit, non-ideas like THAT are not HELPING, Cliff!”

            “Well then, why don’t we shovel it away?” Cliff asked Liam.

            “Shovel it away? In to...what exactly, Cliff?”

            “Umm...buckets? You know, a lot of...buckets. Or something.” The argument continued further, but Kelly wasn’t listening. Not because he was being a prick, or doing Tony Danza impressions off in the corner by himself, but because he was somewhere else at the moment.

            “Galein! Is it true? Is it...a Deathstew?” he asked the now-familiar gnome.

            “Yes, indeed it is. But you should consider yourselves lucky! This Deathstew contains not a single dumpling.”

            “But what do we do?”

            “‘The Evil One’ is testing you, Kelly, but you shall win...win with THIS.” Galein told him, then handed him a denim jacket.

            “Well, thanks Galein, I am a bit chilly, but I hardly see...”

            “It’s not to keep the cold out, Kelly, but rather, to keep the stew...IN.” Galein explained, then was gone once more.

            “So...what do we do?” Shaun asked, growing frantic as the stew grew closer.

            “EEEEK! EEEEEEEK” Vasco shrieked as he looked at the approaching stew through his binoculars.

            “What...WHAT?!” Liam demanded.

            “He says it’s worse than we thought. There...there are potatoes.” Sam told him quietly.

            “My God.” was all that Liam could manage to say. They stood and faced the approaching goo...their destiny riding it like a gravy train...which, I suppose it kinda was.

            “Kelly, you should put your jacket on, it’s chilly out here.” Erron suggested.

            “Yeah, like that’s gonna matter when we’re all buried alive in hot stew!” Chad shouted after loudly snapping his jaw back in to place.

            “The jacket shall...keep the stew...in.” Kelly mumbled to himself. Nobody heard, as they were too busy panicking.

            “Dammit, Cliff, I said NO!” Liam shouted as once more he had to take the shovel from Cliff’s grasp.

            “I don’t see the harm! We’re all gonna be DEAD in half a minute, so what’s the harm in BASHING some heads in!?” he argued in response.

            “Keep the stew...in.” Kelly kept rolling that thought through his mind, like a wine-tester rolls wine through his mouth. What did it mean?

            “Man, remember the day that tornado came? Black...Monday? Or...was it...Sunday? Anyway, this is gonna be like that, only Brown Tuesday.” Cliff told everyone.

            “It’s Thursday, actually.” Kyle corrected him.

            “Like I said, whatever.”

            “The jacket will keep the...that’s IT!” Kelly shouted, then ran about twenty feet forward, dropped the jacket on to the ground, and  returned to the rest of them.

            “Kelly, honey, don’t leave your jacket out there, it’ll get stew all over it.” Erron spoke up. Nobody reminded her of the fact it would be coated in glop no matter what he did with it. They all watched as the stew roiled forth...almost upon them now. Fifty feet...forty...thirty...it was like watching old highlight reels of an OJ Simpson touchdown run, but with more horror. Maybe like watching highlight reels of OJ Simpson scoring a double takeout on Ron and Nicole. Then, as the stew was almost to engulf them, it stopped. In fact, it seemed to be slowly...receding.

            “What the Hell?” Liam asked nobody in particular.

            “Yes! It WORKS! Galein was right!” Kelly shouted. And then the others understood, as they stood and watched as the stew was absorbed in to the jacket. A few minutes later, it was gone, leaving a mere trail of destruction across 50 miles of farmland as evidence it had ever been. And, hey, that’s not so bad, right?

            “Fine work, Kelly, you solved the riddle.” Galein congratulated.

            “Riddle? You call THAT piece of claptrap a fucking RIDDLE?” Hazabas ridiculed.

            “Whatever...I’m just glad it’s dead.” Kelly remarked.

            “Yes...dead...that’s, uhhh...best for everyone...heh. Anyway, well, good luck with that finding of ‘The Evil One’ thing and all, we gotta go!” Galein shouted, and they were gone.

 

                                    HALFWAY ACROSS THE UNIVERSE

 

            “Another fine day on our perfect little planet of Rexohar!” a happy Rexoharian said to another happy Rexoharian as they all faced another happy, happy morning.

            “And why shouldn’t it be? After all, with no war, famine, disease, poverty or daytime talk TV, our world is a perfect world of helping one another through life’s little obstacles. Say, didn’t they finish melting down the last of our planet’s now unnecessary weapons just this morning?”

            “Yes, indeed, I believe that they did! And tomorrow our contingent of representatives heads to Earth, to begin offering them help in making the same sorts of changes to their world that we made to ours!”

            “Remember when we were just like Earth...an Earth 2 if you will?”

            “Woah now, let’s not be so quick to anoint ourselves with the same name as crappy twentieth century sci-fi programming from Earth!”

            “Oh...HAHA...good point, my friend, good point! But, still, remember just twenty scant years ago when we were rife with the same problems Earth is afflicted with today?”

            “Indeed, and look at how far we’ve come! Hmmm...looks like rain...” the first man noted as the sky seemed to darken. Strange, he’d never seen brown clouds before...and

what the heck were those chunks in them?

 

 

            “BLAST!” the shadowed, evil man yelled as he slammed his fist down upon a table sitting before him.

            “Take it easy, my dear, after all, you DID manage to destroy a planet!” the same doting female as before told him.

            “Aaah, it is NOTHING! A solitary man armed with no more than a temper and a broken bottle could have turned those people in to slaves!”

            “I TOLD you to take the time to come up with a detailed plan of evil intent.” she reminded him.

            “Oh, BRILLIANT idea...you must be some sort of...uberbrained supergenius! Have you ever SEEN a Bond movie? Every one of the villains IN those things takes the time to come up with a brilliant plan, then, in a fit of ego-driven insanity, lays out the whole damn thing to the hero. Therefore, by putting absolutely no forethought in to MY evil plans for domination, I am UNABLE to tell any such “good guys” my plans, because, hey, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m about to do, either!” he explained. It was...well...not brilliant, but not exactly laughably stupid either. No, this ‘Evil One’ was proving to be a very, very average opponent indeed.

 

 

            “Here’s your ticket, sir. Uhhh...have a nice flight?” the Air Canada agent said to James as she handed him his ticket, wary of his suit of armor. She’d already had him put the sword he had been carrying in the underneath baggage compartment. But James didn’t notice. He’d become too comfortable in his armor to realize that he was even wearing anything unusual, anymore. He’d eaten, slept, lounged, fought and crapped in that armor, and it was like his second home, now, if indeed his second home were to smell like it had an overflowing septic system.

            “THERE you are! Mr. Krystov, we’ve been looking EVERYWHERE for you!” a small, obviously flaming individual shouted with gleeful relief as he and another, taller man ran up and took James by the arm.

            “What the...who the fuck are you?” he asked.

            “Who ARE we? Mr. Krystov, we’re from the consulate building! We’ve been sent to collect the final ambassadors for the formal, diplomatic dinner party later on this evening. We’ve been looking EVERYWHERE for you.” the man explained as he led James out of the terminal and in to an embassy van.

            “Man, when you said you’d be dressed uniquely, we had NO idea...” the other man said as James took a seat in the government vehicle.

            “So, how was the flight in, sir?” the first one asked as he pulled away from the airport building.

            “Uhhh...airborne.” James explained, “So, uhhhh, how about that country I’m from, eh?”

            “Oh, indeed, sir. Your independent breakaway surprised us all, but, then, those have been more and more frequent of late in your region, haven’t they?”

            “Certainly have. I cannot find argument with what you’re saying, there, my friend.”

            “I can tell you, sir, that the Canadian ambassador is thrilled to have you here in Canada for your first, official meeting as a newly formed nation.”

            “Well, as he should be, for my great country of...where I’m from...shall rise up against the Great Satan, and crush...” he began to rave, much like those wacky Iranians were wont to do, but took the shocked looks he was now receiving from the two men with him that he was off track, “...those cursed terrorists and drug dealers who pose a threat to every human being on this Earth!”

            “Well, good to hear that, sir, good to hear that. So, what’s the weather like out your way, sir?”

            “The weather?”

            “Yes, the weather.”

            “And by that you, of course, mean the current natural climactic conditions of my great homeland?”

            “Ummm...yeah, I guess. Why, does weather mean something else in your country?” the man asked, a little sarcasm creeping in to his question.

            “You little pig shit...” James began to mutter.

            “Pardon, sir?” the man asked, offense very detectable in his voice.

            “Oh, just telling you what weather means in my language...’you little pig shit’...” James covered.            

            “Really? I didn’t think it meant...I apologize, sir, to the leader of your great nation.”

            “And that nation would be?” James asked.

            “Well, sir, I’ve already apologized, I hardly see where...”

            “Where am I from?!” James angrily demanded.

            “Fine, fine, you wanna embarrass me a little more, sir, I apologize to the leader of the newly formed state of Volgorystak, OKAY? Is that good enough for you?”

            “Yes. Yes it is. Thank you, on behalf of me, and the people of my little desert nation.” James told him. Again, the stares of disbelief had him quickly stammering for the right answer, “But then, that was millions of years ago, when the Earth itself was still being formed, and we were but one small boil on the buttock known as Pangaea. Now, we are a frigid land brimming with oil reserves, frozen tundra, and husky women with teeth blackened from heavy consumption of alcoholic beverages.” This seemed to pass, so James relaxed. Silence filled the vehicle for the remainder of the trek.   

 

                                    SEVERAL HOURS LATER

 

            “So then, I told the Israeli senator that if he had a problem with my world views, why didn’t he just do everyone a favor, and check his overly sensitive little ass in to the old Dachau hotel.” James told the small cluster of dignitaries who had gathered around him, then broke in to laughter. Few joined him.

            “Sir, I must say, as the official representative of Britain, that I am, to say the least, offended by your views on...”

            “Hey, so, you’re one o’ them Limeys, eh? So, what’s with your people and frying the shit out of everything, huh? I mean, come ON! Not ALL food is meant to come with a crispy crust, y’know. And hey, you know what else? Not EVERY damn organ of an animal is SUPPOSED to be eaten!” James ranted as he tossed back yet another beer. This time, the French counselor began to chuckle as James laughed his ass off.

            “Hey, what’re you laughing at, Pepe LePew? Hmmm...anyone else smell cheese around here?” he asked, then began loudly sniffing the air around the Frenchman, “Oh, sorry, that’s just Captain France’s fear of water stinkin’ up the joint.” As James looked around, he noticed the Minister from Kenya grabbing a plate of hors d’oeuvres.

            “Hey, that black guy’s stealin’ the caviar!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. When nobody seemed amused, he stumbled back over to the bar, and had started in on another beer, when the woman representing Japan ambled over.

            “Oh, you must be the president of Volgorystak! It is an honor and privilege to meet you!” she told James as she sipped her champagne.

            “I bet it is, baby, I bet it is. Actually, it is rather fortuitous that we should bump in to one another here.”

            “Really? Well, sir, let me assure you, that Japan welcomes any sort of trade agreement with your new nation.”

            “Huh? Oh, who the fuck wants your collection of crappy, plastic toys and deathmobiles? But, I DO have a little project for ya’...maybe you wanna polish my scepter for me?” he asked her.

            “Uhhh...sir...I don’t see...” she stammered, caught off guard by such an abrasive manner by a delegate of a fellow nation state. At least the consulate had given him a suit to wear, and he’d taken off that shit-stained suit of armor.

            “Huh? Oh,. isssss right down here, baby.” James told her, then unzipped his pants and began wagging ‘L’il James’ around in the air, “Shine ‘im up, babeeee, I wanna be able to see myself in there!” The woman was shocked speechless, and simply stormed off, leaving James flinging his willy around like a cock lasso.

            “Sir, we’ve received several complaints from...oh...SIR...would you PLEASE show some DECORUM?” the Canadian ambassador shouted as he walked over to James.

            “I...I thought I was...?” James asked, then looked down to see that, yes indeed, his pants WERE open.

            “Sir, put it BACK... put it BACK in your pants this instant!” the man demanded. Reluctantly, James did. “Now, I realize you are new to the world of diplomatic relations, but PLEASE, stop making active attempts to INSULT and OFFEND your fellow diplomats!” he continued, then walked off, leaving James alone with his beer. Maybe the guy was right.

 

                                                            FIVE MINUTES LATER

 

            “And stay the fuck out!” the Canadian ambassador screamed as James was tossed out into the snow. He lay there a moment, then picked himself up, and hopped in to one of the official limos that had been left waiting outside during the party.

            “Where to, sir?” the driver asked.

            “Take me to the airport.” James ordered.

            “So...what happened back there?” the driver asked after a few minutes.

            “Y’know, this diplomacy shit is a bitch and a half. I mean, that woman ASKED to see my biggest export, I dunno why the fuck she freaked out like that...”

 

 

           

                                                THE NEXT DAY

 

            “Hey, James, how’d things go?” Liam asked as the J-man returned to the fold.

            “Oh, not too bad. The pie guy’s dead. Uhhh...oh, and I got to go to some big dinner thing, too.”

            “Not too shabby, buddy, not too shabby.”

            “Say, none of you have heard from Vlad, have you?” James asked.

            “You haven’t heard?”

            “What...what haven’t I heard?”

            “Vlad’s on the lam. It’s been all over the news...Yugoslav psychopath stalking Canada’s concert scene, killing off music personalities left and right. Hell, every rhythm and blues act in existence is scared to enter our borders, for fear of ‘Slobodan Squared’, as the news calls him.”

            “Wow...that’s pretty crazy, though I scarcely see what any of that had to do with a sheep. [Author’s note : HAHA!] Anyway, what’s been going on here?” James asked. And he was let in on the whole story, from Kelly’s first vision, to the battle with the stew.

            “Holy shit...WE are the only ones who can save humanity? WE?” James asked.

            “Yeah, I know, it’s pretty...startling...” Cliff told him.

            “And not so much for us, moreso for the billions of innocents depending on us.” Chad chimed in.

            “So...where is Kelly?” James asked. Full of questions, that James.

            “Oh, we’re having trouble figuring out who ‘The Evil One’ is, so he’s calling someone up that we hope can give us a hand in the ol’ identity department.” Liam told him.

 

            “Hello there, you’re on Lateline, the call-in show from coast to coast for people who rant and rave the most.” the station operator answered.

            “Oh...ummm...hi, any chance I can get on the air tonight?” Kelly asked.

            “Well, depends on the subject matter. Alien conspiracies get first priority, then we go with government conspiracies, drug company conspiracies, Fox-TV-inspired conspiracies, and ‘Pi Made Me Kill My Family’, in that order.”

            “Well, actually, I just had a question for Jesus.”

            “Oh. Well, things are pretty quiet right now, hun, so tell ya what, soon is the caller on air right now is finished, I’ll put you on, ‘kay?” the woman told him, then threw him on hold before he could thank her. Instead, he hummed along to the lite-rock version of ‘Mr. Roboto’ being played softly, the singing replaced by the gentle sway of the harp.

 

            “Listen here, crackah, when you’se gonn’ recognize you’se a racist mutherfucker?” the angry caller asked for the tenth time in about two minutes.

            “Sir, I fail to see how Jesus Christ, our lord and savior, can be...” the host began, only to be interrupted by the caller.

            “And thass’ ANUTHA’ thing! Jesus ain’t no lord n’ savior! He’s the SON o’ God, GOD’S the bad mammajamma! Jesus’ juss’ some punk kid died fo’ US! Hell, he OUR bitch!”

            “Calm, my son, calm, allow me to explain...”

            “‘Splain, WHA’? Racist, whitebread muthafucka! All yo’ apostles n’ shit ALL whities, juss’ like YOU! Matthew, ya gots Luke, ya gots John...ain’t no Jamal, ain’t no Abdullah, ain’t no Shaniqua in no bible!”

            “Hey! Hey! Listen, I’ve heard ENOUGH...I’ll have you know that JOB was a black man, okay?”

            “Oh, JOB’S the brutha’!? Shoulda’ known! Job got done up like some whitebread honky in Bubba’s ward in Folsom, DIG?”

            “Sir, that’s quite enough.” the host spoke up as he cut the caller off, “Jesus I have to apologize.”

            “Ted, that’s okay. After all, you come on radio during a late night time slot, you EXPECT to get a few wackos.”

            “Jesus, your ability to just let things slide continues to amaze and impress me.”

            “Well, Ted, once you’ve had spikes driven through your hands and feet and been left to die in the sun, a few angry Negroes just doesn’t have too much effect any more. Ha ha. No, but seriously, Ted, if I was to let every freakazoid out there get to me, I’d have died and been resurrected a few HUNDRED times by now, and that’d make the bible pretty repetitive, now wouldn’t it? And Ted, you could stand to relax a little yourself.”

            “Hey, I got three ex-wives, one upcoming paternity suit, and a piece o’ shit car that starts half the time if I’m LUCKY, I got too much stuff on my plate NOT to worry. But don’t worry, loyal listeners, none of that is gonna stop Ted Ravinsky, because I’m going strong!”

            “Well, for about another ten months, anyway...” Jesus mumbled.

            “What was that?”

            “Huh? Oh, nothing, just thinking out loud.”

            “Okay, well, let’s take our next caller. His name is...Kelly from Edmonton, and he has a question for the son of God. Go ahead Kelly, you’re on the air...”

 

            “Hi, uhhh, Ted?”

            “Yes, Kelly.”

            “Hey, good to talk to you guys. Listen, Jesus, I’d like to just jump straight to the point if I could.”

            “Hey, not a problem with me, Kelly. Heck, if those idiots transcribing the bible had spent a little less time going on and on with the begats and smitings and so forth, and a little MORE time writing down the POINT, it’d be the leaflet of God, okay?”

            “Ummm...sure. Listen, all I’m wondering is, who is ‘The Evil One’, and where might I find him?”

            “Well...Kelly, the first part is quite easy, in that this ‘Evil One’ of whom you speak is quite obviously Satan. As for the latter portion, he would be found in Hell. Or occasionally on Earth, pursuing his own malevolent goals. But Kelly, I have a question for you, why exactly would you be looking for the Antichrist?”

            “Well, it’s my quest. I’ve been told that I have to stop him.”

            “Oh, I see, so you’re taking the bible at it’s literal meaning of ‘fighting for one’s soul’. Well, that’s very admirable Kelly. Let me by the first to wish you luck, and to warn you that ol’ Sate goes for the low blow the first chance he gets.”

            “No, Jesus, I think maybe we’ve had a bit of a miscommunication...” Kelly told him.

            “Oh, I apologize Kelly, please, go ahead.”

            “See, I’m pretty sure ‘The Evil One’ is not Satan. I mean, I could ask Galein and Hazabas, but I’m quite sure of that.”

            “Galein and...and Hazabas? My, who are these folks with such Old Testament names, friends of yours?” Jesus asked.

            “Actually, they’re gnomes.”

            “Ummm...pardon me Kelly, but did you say gnomes?” Jesus asked.

            “Yes. Hey, I know what you’re thinking, can’t never trust a gnome, right? But they did help me defeat the Deathstew. Anyway, can you help me?”

            “Death...stew?”

            “Yes, Jesus.”

            “Like, the stuff you eat?”

            “Ummm...yes, except this one kills people.”

            “Okay, is this some sort of college frat joke?” Ted asked.

            “No, sir, I need to...”

            “No Ted, this is no frat joke. I THOUGHT this voice sounded familiar.” Jesus interrupted, a bit of surliness boiling to the surface.

            “A familiar voice, Jesus? And who might it be?” Ted asked.

            “Judas, you rancid little motherfucker. What, you turn me in to that prick Pilate, that’s not ENOUGH for you? Well, I’ve got news for YOU, buddy boy, I’ve HAD it with the tricks and little games! First the crucifixion, which WAS your fault, then you pulled down my pants in front of that crowd in Des Moines, THEN you start sending me dozens of pizzas at home, when you KNOW I don’t have any cash on me. And now you embarrass me live on the air? I’ve HAD it, you punk! And when I find you, I’m gonna wrap my fucking hand around your fucking throat, and fucking squeeze until your head pops off! Then I’ll smack that pea-sized brain around with the hand of FUCKING GOD, and use it for FOOSBALL against the HOLY FUCKING GHOST! Do you hear me, Judas? HUH? DO YOU?” Jesus screamed. But Kelly had hung up.

 

            “Hey, Harll, any luck?” Liam asked.

            “Uhhh...not so much, no. I CAN tell you that that Jesus has a lot of repressed anger.” Kelly replied, “Hey, James, you’re back!”

            “Oh, and what tipped you off, Kelly, huh? My PRESENCE here?” Kelly was prepared to reply, when a news report came on the television.

 

            “This is Dan Rather, and here is an important news update. I have been clinically dead for seven years, and exist before you today in a state of living-dead re-animation. When those around the country were asked what they thought of that fact, half shrugged their shoulders, while the other half responded with a hardy “Fuck ME!”, then continued about their day. For those of you in the latter category, I WILL be paying you a visit, and making good on your requests...hey, look at me, this might be the only chance to get me some pooty that ever comes along.”

            “In other news, the US military issued a brief press release just scant minutes ago, detailing the complete and total destruction of the newly formed nation state of Volgorystak. The combined nuclear/biological/chemical strike “Wiped the little shitstain off the map.”, according to the Secretary of Defense. He went on to say that their national leader, making his first appearance at a consulate dinner in Canada was “Just this giant fucking asshole.” Letters of congratulations are already arriving in Washington this evening from around the globe. Now, with a quick sports update, here’s Carl. So, Carl, how about those...” Dan’s question was interrupted with much abruptness when he turned to his right. Seated in the sports reporter’s seat was none other than a monkey, looking quite smart in his blue suit. The small ape looked in to the camera and began screeching overtop of the sports highlights being displayed, then sent it back over to Dan with the good ol’ wink and the gun.

            “Well...this has been a CBS News update. I’m Dan Rather, and I shall soon commence consumption of the brains of the living, to ease the pain of being dead.”

 

            “Holy crap, I can’t believe they blew up...you know, that country...the one they blew up?” Cliff vocally stumbled.

            “Volgorystak.” James told him.

            “Uhhh...thanks...how did you remember that?”

            “Oh, it just sorta...stuck with me.”

            “Well, I scarcely see how it matters at all.” Erron offered up.

            “How...How does it MATTER? I’ll have you know that the country of Volgorystak was a PROUD nation state, full of proud people, who broke away from their oppressors...you know...somewhere cold, and formed their own...oh, my uberbird!” James stopped as his food of choice arrived. The patriotic music playing in the background also ceased as one of the servers changed the channel away from a commercial for beer.

            “You know, from all indications, the leader of this...Vulvatickle, or whatever they were called, is a pretty bad guy...maybe he could be ‘the Evil One’?” Kelly asked the table. Everyone else seemed to go along with it. James choked, and spit a large wad of half-chewed sandwich on to the table.

            “Uhhh...I don’t think so.”

            “Why?” Kelly asked.

            “Well, I mean, what are the chances he’s still alive, after an attack like that? And you’d think that if ‘the Evil One’ were indeed DEAD, that those damn gnomes would at least let us KNOW, right?”

            “Well...yeah, I guess so. Oh well. Guess we keep looking, then.”

            “Phew, that was a near miss.” James whispered.

            “What was?” Kyle asked.

            “Ummm...pardon?”

            “What was a near miss?”

            “Oh, that last bite...just missed the spot.”

            “The spot?”

            “The spot.”

            “The spot?”

            “Yes, the spot. You know, that old adage of “that hit the spot”? Well, I just missed mine. Maybe next time.” James spit out, then returned to eating...that and shifting his eyes.

            “You know, I was wondering something else...since when are there TV’s in Denny’s?” Cliff asked.

            “Oh, they’re new...we just got them today, in fact. Just finished hooking them up this afternoon. Anyway, I have to go serve others now.” Carmen told them as she just happened to walk by at the moment when Cliff asked his question. How convenient.

            “Hey, guys!” Atti announced his presence in the usual way as he strode to the table, carrying a binder. A binder thick with paper...aaaaaand intrigue!

            “Hey, we’ve been wondering what the Hell happened to you!” Kyle shouted.

            “Well, I’ve been busy. I couldn’t find that girl, so I went home and was going to ‘take care of business’, so to speak, when I had this bold idea...Transformers!”

            “Wow...what a unique business venture you’ve come up with there...maybe you could have a TV show, even a movie...” James deadpanned.

            “You didn’t let me finish, fucko! My idea isn’t Transformers...it’s Transformers : The MUSICAL!” Atti shouted with glee. The idea sort of washed over everyone, forming eddies around some members, nearly sweeping others away in powerful riptides. “Okay, I can tell you’re skeptical, but come ON! Hey, Mikey, yeah, bring ‘em in!” he shouted towards the front door. A 40-piece orchestra came to the back of the eatery and began setting up.

            “Hey there, folks, I’m Michael Kamen.” the conductor said, introducing himself as he took his place at the head of the group. His greeting was returned with a fist to the face from Kelly.

            “That’s for Metallica fans everywhere, jerkass. Thanks for wrecking the band.” Kelly told him as he started to rub his hand. Man, that hurt. He wasn’t ready for Mr. Kamen’s attack dog, which lunged for his throat. But Michael pulled back on it’s leash, and it was dragged back beside him. But this didn’t really seem to be an attack dog at all...

            “We’re fuckin’ METALLICA, man, and if WE wanna put out a CD of us playing Creeping Death with an orchestral backing band, we’ll fuckin’ DO it, and you’ll fuckin’ BUY it, because you’re all our goddamn bitches, understand? And if you’re not COOL with that shit, then fuck you, we’ll kill your ass and stuff the body in the same hole we put Jason fucking Newsted in. He wasn’t cool with shit, so we fucked him up, then we told people he left the band because of fucking ‘creative differences’. News flash, fuckwads, ‘creative differences’ is industry talk for ‘we fuckin’ killed his ass’, okay? Fuck you all! We’re fuckin’ Metallica!” Lars Ulrich ranted. Strangely, until he had attacked Kelly, nobody had even noticed him walking on all fours at Michael Kamen’s side.

            “Well, that was totally irrelevant.” James noted as Kamen handed Lars a cookie.

            “Hey, we all wanna focus back on the Attman, now? Anyway, let’s get this bitch crackin’, Mike!” Atti told Mr. Kamen, who began orchestrating a sweeping score of music. As it reached one crescendo after another, an eight person choir began singing.

 

            “Autobots and Decepticons, flying through the air.”

            “Look out...it’s Unicron, Transformers BeeeWAAAAAAARE!”

 

            As they finished this opening verse, the orchestra also ceased, packed up, then left again.

            “So, what do you guys think?” Atti asked.

            “Well, I gotta say, it’s...it’s...” Liam started, searching for the words.

            “Short. Really, really short. We’re talkin’ too small for this ride, wears lead weights to keep from blowing away in a stiff breeze, tiny here, man.” Cliff told him.

            “Well, that’s not ALL of it. I can’t do the whole fucking THING for you, not when I’m planning to charge one hundred dollars a pop for stupid rich people to see it on Broadway!”

            “Are you serious, man?” Kyle asked.

            “Hell, yeah! By pure coincidence, I happened to be doing some programming for a guy whose brother is a Broadway theater manager. He took a look over the stuff, said “Thank God, it’s something NOT from that fucking Andrew Lloyd Webber”, and said they’d so it! I leave in an hour and a half!”

            “Holy shit! Gonna miss you, man!” Liam told his friend.

            “Well, I wish I could say the same. Remember all those times I told you all I didn’t like you, and you all laughed, because it was a joke? Well, I wasn’t joking. The only reason I spent time with you goombahs was in a REALLY, REALLY misguided attempt to meet women. Now that I have money, I don’t need ANY of you. I’ve already purchased several robot friends who put you all to shame. And one of THEM knows this guy who knows these girls...heh heh. Well, anyway, sayonara, suckers!” Atti told them, then walked out of their lives.

            “Man, I’m goin’ for a walk.” Kelly told the group after Atti had departed, then stood.

            “Want some company?” Chad asked him.

            “Nah, Kelly need some alone time, gringo.”

 

                                    TEN MINUTES LATER

 

            Aaah, nothing like a good constitutional to get the blood flowing, along with those creative juices. And both were doing some movin’ and a shakin’ for Kelly. Oh yeah, he was solving some riddles, blowing the lid off some coverups, figuring some stuff out.

            “Damn this foul contraption!” he shouted as he tossed away the Rubik’s Cube he had been working on. With that distraction now removed, he was able to refocus on the problem at hand. Who was ‘The Evil One’? Where was he located? Why was he bent on world domination, which was the biggest bad guy cliche in the world? I mean, come on, if you’re going to be that redundant and pointless, why not just start up a chain of speakeasies, selling bootleg liquor around the city? Or, better yet, star in a feature film, opposite the most famous member of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Yes, that member. The one, the proud...Mr. Bean. That’s right, he was a secret agent. Bet you never even knew, didja? That’s because he was underCOVER, ya schmoe. Kelly thought and walked on through the night.

            “Hey, Andy, looks like I found us another one o’ them firewater salesmen!” a strangely high-pitched voice shouted out from somewhere nearby. Kelly looked to see a skinny cop with bulging eyes, pointing towards an underground whiskey sales booth, as another cop with an easy-going smile slowly approached. In the background, familiar whistling...but this was all just needless distraction! Kelly needed all of his faculties committed to this ‘Evil One’ business.

            “So, we finally meet, Kelly Harll.” a smug voice said from behind him. Kelly whirled around to see a figured there, shrouded in shadow.

            “Who the fuck are you?” he politely asked.

            “Me? I am merely your greatest nemesis!” the figure told him.

            “Jake? So, you got my five hundred bucks, you bastard?”

            “What? No, no, I am not this...Jake of whom you speak.”

            “Oh. Ummm...are you a physical manifestation of my love life?”

            “I am most certainly not that!” the man responded, drawing back a little in horror.

            “AHA! I now know your identity! Without a doubt, YOU are the reason it currently burns when I pee!”

            “Good grief...” the figure whimpered, then sat down. This was going to be a long wait.

 

                                                TEN MINUTES LATER

 

            “Enough! I can bear no MORE! I am...’The Evil One’!” the man shouted as he rose up, then began to cackle evilly, briefly interrupting the cacophony of mirth to stretch.

            “So, YOU are my nemesis!” Kelly responded.

            “In the flesh...well...in the flesh in front of my holographic image transporter back at my secret lair, anyway.”

            “AHA! So, you have a LAIR!”

            “Ummm...well, yes. But I really didn’t think that would be news.”

            “AHA! It’s NOT!” Kelly told him. Truly, this was a battle of wits. “By the way, are you maybe responsible for the burning when I take a leak?”

            “No, sorry, I can’t take credit for that. Well, I COULD, but that would be lying, which would be wr...on second thought, uhhh...yes, YES I AM! Ahaha...ha?”

            “Nice try, but I’m not buying it.” Kelly told him.

            “Yeah, I sort of blew it from the outset there, didn’t I?” the villain asked him, releasing a sigh of despair immediately following his query.

            “Hey, listen, it wasn’t that bad...come to think of it, I...I do believe you! Yeah!” Kelly told the figure.

            “Oh, enough...you’re about as believable a liar as I.”

            “Oh well. I guess I’ll have to ask that whore I’ve been seeing about that whole ‘fiery urethra’ issue. Maybe she can shed some light on it.” Kelly theorized.

            “You do like the sluts, don’t you?” the man asked.

            “Jake? I KNEW it! Fork over the bucks!” Kelly demanded, then attacked the man, flailing away with fists of fury...which flew right through the figure, because, hey, he was only a hologram.

            “Oh dear.” the bad guy sighed, and again waited for things to calm.

 

                                    TEN MINUTES LATER

 

            “Okay, so, we’re ready to go then?” he asked Kelly, who was now left gasping for breath. “Good. Yes, Kelly, I AM...’The Evil One’! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

            “Wow...so you’re...him...” Kelly gasped, noting the quick look of disappointment on his arch-nemesis’ face, “Sorry, man...this is a...big deal...and...all, I’m just...out of breath...is all.” he explained.

            “I see. Yes. And why are you out of breath? Because I, the PINNACLE of EVIL, coaxed you in to wasting your puny resources in an attempt to destroy my mere image! HAHAHAHAHA!”

            “Yeah, yeah, pure evil, yadda yadda...so, any reason you appeared to me?” Kelly asked.

            “Uhh...no, pretty much just to gloat. For you shall never find me, and certainly never defeat me, puny boy.” the bastard explained.

            “You know, you’re really more annoying than evil.”

            “Oh, am I? And who do you think attacked you with the vilest stew ever made, hmmm? And who do you think REALLY killed this...TIM character I believe you know? It was me! ME! And I SHALL strike again and again until you and the rest of your pathetic little band of misfit toys are ALL rendered quite dead, then force the world to bow before me! And I mean the world itself, quite literally, will bow! I have the powers to do it!” ‘The Evil One’ told him, then his image slowly faded away, laughing the whole time, leaving Kelly to his thoughts, as Andy Griffith and Don Knotts proceeded to go nightstick upside the homemade whiskey salesman. And once more, he trudged on.

 

            “Hey man, where you been? We were starting to worry a bit.” Chad admitted as Kelly finally returned to the quaint, family atmosphere of Denny’s. Good food, good friends, good times...think Denny’s. [Author’s note : Any money and/or dinner coupons for this free advertising will be accepted. A gracious bastard am I!]

            “He appeared to me, guys.” Kelly told them.

            “Who, Kojak? Man, those damn TV cops are on a rampage out there! Ponch and John have been ‘enforcing the law’ through the taking of bribes, Simon and Simon are being sought over a string of suspicious explosions, and Columbo just shot a man because he looked at him funny!” Liam told him.

            “Although really, through that guy’s fucked up eyes, I bet EVERYONE looks at him funny.” James added. it was a good point.

            “No, none of them. ‘The Evil One’.”

            “And it’s Kojak, isn’t it!?” Liam demanded to know.

            “No, it’s not fucking Kojak, ya freak!”

            “Hey, woah, easy there, big fella, sorry. Just cause it burns so bad when you wizz that you feel the need to scream loudly enough to shatter glass, that doesn’t give you the right to be yelling at ME. I didn’t light your dick on fire!” Liam shouted back.

            “You’re right, I’m sorry.” With those words from Kelly, a hush drew over the table. What was this ‘sorry’, and how could he be it? “I’m just frustrated with this whole quest to find ‘The Evil One’. I mean, hey, normally my quests involve searching for gold, and being killed by wave after wave of snow giants after Rob does something stupid, like spit on them. But after, we just put away the dice, and it’s over. This time, there’s a lot more riding on it.”

            “Hey, everybody!” Shaun shouted as he and Tracy boldly went where the rest of the group had gone before, and sat down.

            “Hey, Shaun. Kelly’s snapping under the strain.” Cliff told him, bringing him up to speed on the happenings in the group.

            “Shut up, man! You just don’t get it!” Kelly shouted.

            “Oh, I get it. What I DON’T do in this case, is CARE.” Cliff explained.

            “Well, you know, Kelly, when I have a question that really needs answering, I seek the help of...’The Guru’.” Shaun told his friend.

            “Hey, that’s a great idea! Shaun, buddy, our thinking’s so parallel, it’s perpendicular!” Liam said with much bravado, delivering a heart slap on the back along with.

            “Liam, this is no time for algebra!” Shaun lamented. Everyone simply took the comment in stride. “But, anyway, yeah, you should go see him, Kelly. ‘The Guru’ is great! He’s always been helpful to me.”

            “Well, he WAS helpful, until Shaun got BANNED from his PRESENCE!” Tracy added.

            “Hey, he’ll come around, and soon I’ll be allowed to see him again! I WILL!” Shaun bellowed, then began to weep softly.

            “See, Shaun started going to see the guy with ALL his problems, he’d stay out there for weeks at a time. Finally, after he asked ‘The Guru’ for about the thousandth time how to program a function in C++, the guy snapped, and had Shaun tossed out. And now he’s banned from going there.” Tracy explained.

            “But, hey, if someone ELSE goes to see him, maybe they can put in a good word for me? Huh?” Shaun suggested, nudging Kelly in the ribs. A quick and always surprising headbutt attack to the chest, battering ram style, quickly put an end to that.

            “What word would you suggest he say, Shaun? Perhaps...saracen? That’s a pretty good word. Or maybe onomatopoeia. That’s a good’n, too.” Liam derided.

            “Good’n? GOOD’N?!” Monique screeched as she walked towards them, having just caught the last few words of Liam’s jibe.

            “I...I...I didn’t mean it!” he cried, trying to defend himself.

            “Oh, I think you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have SAID anything!”

            “No! I...wait...wait, I can explain! Uhh...that guy stole my tongue! He gave me his bad-talking tongue in exchange!” Liam yelled, pointing urgently over to the guy three tables down, who was reading a book quietly by himself. Hurricane Monique quickly put a stop to that.

            “So, you’ve tried to coax me in to killing one of my friends, have you? And you’re a horrible speaker at that!” she yelled, then began pulling off her shirt. Quickly she realized that she’d forgotten to put on her ‘Dictionary Girl’ attire beneath her clothes...about the same time as the guy in question started trying to stuff a fiver down her pants.

            “Man, I know it’s my birthday, but this is too much!” he yelled. “Take it all off, baby!”

            “Oh, fuck it.” she muttered, then began beating his head in with her dictionary, despite the total lack of appropriate garb. The rest of the group watched for a little while, then lost interest and returned to the previous conversation.

            “You know, I think I will seek the advice of this...Guru...perhaps he can give me a clue as to the identity and location of ‘the Evil One’.” Kelly told everyone situated around him.

            “Well, I’m not really doing much of anything right now, so maybe I’ll tag along. Who knows, maybe this guru can make me care about other people’s feelings in any way at all.” Cliff told him.

            “And, I might as well come, too. Actually, I’ve wanted to see if maybe he could hook me up with a set of balls for awhile, but I’ve been too afraid to go by myself.” Chad spoke up, then cowered as the waitress loomed over the table and poured refills of coffee for everyone, finally relaxing when she left.

            “Ha...so basically, you guys are looking for a brain, a heart, and some cour...” Kyle never got a chance to finish his comment, as he was promptly jumped by everyone else at the table, including Sam and Dave, who had no idea what was going on when they walked in, but liked the idea of leaping upon a pile of men.

            “What, you wanna get us sued for copyright infringement?!” Liam shouted as everyone picked themselves up off the floor, and returned to their seats.

            “Sorry, man, I guess I just wasn’t thinkin’.” Kyle answered.

            “Whew, close one. Anyway, guys, if you’re off to see ‘the Guru’, be sure to watch out for winged orangutans, and cackling women with evil magical powers who ride on flying mops.” Shaun told them.

            “Thanks for the warning, man.” Kelly told his friend.

            “Oh, and guys? I’d suggest starting your trip down Golden Chunk Boulevard.” James recommended. Again, thanks were passed along, and then the three were off.

            “Here ya go, Liam.” Monique told him as she sat down, assault over, and handed him the tongue of her latest hapless victim, “he really had that thing jammed in there good!”

            “Oh...thank you...” Liam whimpered, then forced himself to put the tongue in to his own mouth as she watched. “Mmmm...not bad...kinda salty...”

 

            “Well, this would appear to be the way.” Cliff pointed out to his friends. Laid out before him was a roadway seemingly constructed from gilded bricks of some kind.

            “Well, thank ya kindly, Mr. Genius.” Chad commented. It was ignored, and the three of them set off down the street.

            “Hey, watch where you’re goin’, tall stuff!” a voice cried from below with much anger. Kelly looked down to see that he had almost kicked a small child, who was scurrying about unseen at about knee level.

            “Oh, sorry, little boy, I didn’t see you there. Say, aren’t you kinda young to be out by yourself?” he asked.

            “I’m forty three fucking years old, you ignorant shit farmer!” the small man shot back.

            “Woah, hey, sorry buddy...” Kelly tried to apologize, but there was to be none of that.

            “Jesus, just cause I’m a small fry, I don’t get the same fucking consideration as everyone else? Huh?”

            “Look, I said I was sorry!” Kelly shouted again.

            “Say...I had heard that the little people on the way to see ‘The Guru’ were full of songs and laughter.” Chad remarked, then jumped back as the small one gave him a glare.

            “Yeah, well, that WAS the case at first. But that fuckin guru, you think he EVER paid us for any of that shit? No! Damn bastard never gave us a dime! So we unionized, and we’re striking for wages. No pay, no singing. And if he has a PROBLEM with that, he can float on out here on his goddamn magic carpet, like Ali fucking Baba, and bring it up at the next meeting of Local 235.” the little man explained, then spit on Kelly’s shoe, and scampered off.

            “Jesus, lovely scenery on this trip.” Chad remarked.

            “Indeed. What do you think, Cliff? Cliff?” Kelly asked, then looked around to find where his compadre had in fact gotten off to.

            “Put me down, you gigantic bastard!” The same little man screamed as Cliff held up about four feet in the air, having lifted him by the back of his pants’ waistband.

            “Cliff! Put that little bastard down!” Kelly shouted, unable to imagine what a wedgie of that magnitude must feel like.

            “Tell ya what, guy, how’s about I take you home?” Cliff asked the man.

            “Well...okay, fine, I guess it’s SOMETHING after the way I’ve been treat...AAAAGH!” the guy yelled as Cliff put him down, then took three steps back. Dashing forward again, he delivered a mighty kick that propelled the midgetular individual up on to the closest rooftop. “Oh YEAH, thanks a LOT, man, cause I LIVE on the fucking ROOF! I might as well be a goddamn PIGEON up here! SON OF A BITCH! Hey...what’s that warbling? Oh...oh GOD...there ARE pigeons up here...I...I...aaaagh!” the man shrieked once more, this time as he was consumed by the hellish birds. [Author’s note : these are of course a rare breed of Venezuelan pigeons that eat meat. Really.]

            “Oh my God, Fenster is dead!” a small voice cried out from over to the left.

            “It was the pigeons!” screamed another.

            “Those big people threw him up there, they’re responsible!” a third yelled.

            “Woah, woah...we all saw the pigeons eat him. I think it’s safe to say that THEY are ACTUALLY responsible for his death.” the second one rationalized.

            “You and your goddamn semantics. Look, if those guys hadn’t put him UP there in the first place, the pigeons wouldn’t have eaten them!” the third argued.

            “Now, how can you possibly know that for sure? Maybe one of them would have flown down and consumed him nonetheless.”

            “Must we go through this argument EVERY TIME this happens? Jesus, man, can we at LEAST agree that, while the pigeons DID actually EAT Fenster, the giants put him in a position to BE eaten?” the third asked.

            “Well, yes, that’s only logical.”

            “Okay then, so let’s get ‘em!” With the dispute finally settled, the whole town’s worth of small folk attacked en masse.

            “Bring it on, you midget motherfuckers!” Cliff shouted as he unleashed the shovel that had been sheathed on his back. The first midget jumped towards him, only to be slammed off in to the distance with a moonshot that would have made Barry Bonds proud. “Oh yeah, that’s a sweet bomb, baby!”

            “Dammit...I’ll help!” Kelly grumbled. He wasn’t happy to be in this situation, but now that they WERE in it, they had to defend themselves. Plus, midgets are just freaky, and who doesn’t want to pummel a freak? But as Kelly prepared to join the fracas, a heavy weight prevented him from lifting his arms.

            “Save me!” Chad screamed in a falsetto high enough to do Prince shame as he leapt in to Kelly’s arms and began blubbering like a twit. The midgets were quickly overwhelming Cliff’s home run swing, and were starting to swarm.

 

 

                                                BACK AT DENNY’S

 

 

            “Hi there, the waitress said that maybe one of you boys could help me?” the bespectacled, middle aged man asked as he approached the table.

            “You’re here for verbal and physical abuse? Well, you’ve come to the right place, ya scrawny, bad haired, ass faced little bitch!” Liam greeted the newcomer jollily.

            “No...umm...actually, I already have a staff of highly paid professionals who do that for me...”

            “Oh, so we aren’t GOOD enough for Mr. Fancyass here!” Liam yelled.

            “No, hey, you’re quite skilled...quite...skilled. But that’s just not what I’m here for.” the guy explained.

            “Oh. Well, I really don’t think we can help you, then. You were lied to. Shouldn’t listen to girls. They lie.” Liam told him, dropping a bit of philosophy on the man’s shoulders.

            “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me where I can find a...Kelly Harll?” the man asked.

            “Why you lookin’ for Kel?” James asked.

            “Well, I really should talk to him about it, it concerns this...quest he’s apparently part of...”

            “Listen, he’s gone to see somebody for some information, and probably won’t be back anytime soon, so if you could just tell us...” Liam told him.

            “Well, I guess I really don’t have a choice. Here, this should help with things.” he told them, then placed a software box upon the table.

            “Clairvoyant 1.0...what the Hell is this for?” Shaun asked.

            “You see, it’s a new software line we’re working on. I was busy hacking in to other people’s E-mail accou...errr...checking other programs for breachable security measures...yes...that’s it...when I came across a message between a Mr. Galein and a Mr. Hazabas? I guess they’re gnomes...anyway, among some rather disturbing diatribes railing against Columbia House, and repeated mention of something called...’fucking the dog’...whose true meaning I don’t wish to really guess at too much, were multiple mentions of Kelly Harll and his friends crusading against some ‘Evil One’.”

            “Who the Hell are you, man?” Sam asked, wondering, like everyone else, how this guy knew so much. He looked a little familiar, but nobody could put their finger on his identity.

            “Why, I’m Bill Gates, CEO of Microsoft.” the man told them.

            “Of COURSE! I KNEW you looked familiar!” James shouted now.

            “Hey, Mr. Gates, there’s a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to...” Kyle started.

            “Well, anything I can do to brainwa...satisfy...a potential customer. Go ahead.”

            “Does your dad cut your hair using a salad bowl and a pair of pruning shears?”

            “No...and what an odd query.”

            “So, let me get this straight...you’re here...to help us?” Dave asked.

            “Yes, I am.” Bill replied.

            “You do realize that we are the GOOD guys here, right?” Tracy asked.

            “Yes, I was under that impression.”

            “And that there are really no advertising possibilities here? No way to put Microsoft’s name all over this event?” James asked.

            “Well, once we start forcing people at gunpoint to have our name tattooed on their foreheads, it won’t really...ummm...yes, yes, I did know that. You all seem quite surprised.”

            “Well, to be honest, Mr. Gates, you don’t exactly come across as a particularly heroic guy.” Sam admitted.

            “Yeah,” James chimed in, “In fact, in one of our ‘Evil Guy’ brainstorming sessions, we had you number...4 on the list of possibles, smack dab in the middle of Saddam Hussein, and Betty Crocker.”

            “See, that’s why I’m HERE. I’m TIRED of being seen as the BAD guy. I want to be the GOOD guy for a change. Not for the public so much as for my own emotional well being. God, all those slings and arrows shot my way really hurt, guys. Not so much me as the would-be-snipers themselves when my high priced bodyguards get ahold of them, but the intent is still there! You know guys, it’s true what they say.” Gates lamented.

            “Money can’t buy happiness?” Erron asked.

            “No, god no! HahahaHAHAHAHAHA! What fucking SAP wrote THAT piece of drivel! HAHAHA! I’ll have to tell that one to Paul Allen next time I see him, I think he’ll get a kick out of it.”

            “It’s lonely at the top?” Shaun suggested.

            “Jesus, where do you people GET this shit. I mean, sure, it’s lonely, if you don’t count my six personal assistants, fourteen secretaries, and seven or eight high priced prostitutes up there with me. I tell ya, it’s fucky-sucky 24-7 in MY office. Hell, I have a fucking dog walker on staff, and I shot the dog for sport YEARS ago!”

            “Well then, what the Hell were you talking about? What’s true that people say?!” Liam demanded, growing tired of these quips.

            “Huh? Oh, ‘People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones’, or something to that effect. What? Sure, it had nothing to do with the earlier material, but it’s TRUE. Really, though, building a glass house is just retarded to begin with. Absolutely bottoms out the neighborhood property values when all the neighbors can watch your constant masturbation.

            “Well, THANK YOU, Mr. Gates, we’ll try this software right away.” James told him.

            “Oh, no problem. Listen, this should be able to go online and identify the ‘Evil One’ with 99% accuracy. I gotta go, but good luck!” Bill told them, then strode towards the exit. He wasn’t halfway there when a blast went off right above him. He was thrown to the floor by the explosion, and dust and debris obscured everyone’s view for a few moments. Once the room had cleared, the attacker could be seen.

            “This is for Windows 3.1!” Vlad shouted, then delivered a swift kick to Bill Gates’ ribs,

            “This is for Windows ‘95!” Another kick followed.

            “Windows ‘98!” Another.

            “Windows 2000!” Another.

            “And, for the coup de grace...” Vlad started as he unholstered the Glock 9mm. strapped to his side, “THIS...is for Windows ME!” With that, he emptied the clip into Bill, who was killed almost instantly by the torrent of bullets. His work finished, Vlad took off back through the hole in the roof, and away from Denny’s, legions of security in hot pursuit.

 

 

                        SOMEWHERE IN THE STATE OF WASHINGTON

 

 

            “Fool...you don’t kill Bill Gates THAT easily...heh heh...” Bill muttered at the massive wall-sized video monitor which was showing Vlad’s escape. He was safe inside his stronghold of power, deep, deep underground in a secret location.

            “Those fucking robot doubles are getting expensive, though...” Bill lamented, then sat down in his comfortable command chair.

 

 

                        FURTHER ALONG THE GOLDEN BRICK BOULEVARD

 

 

            “Enough! This is the last time! If you don’t all SHUT THE HELL UP, I WILL systematically end the lives of every last one of you foul creatures!” Cliff screamed, drawing their forward motion to a halt. Abruptly, the singing midgets, whistling birds, and humming frogs all ceased, and they continued on once more...in silence.

            “AHAHAHAHA! You’re mine NOW, my pretties!” a hideous voice shrieked from somewhere above. All three lads looked up to see one of the evil mop-riders swooping down towards them. Kelly and Cliff dove in to the ditches on either side of the road. Chad simply stood there, frozen with fear, as the bitch drew ever closer. Then, before anyone could react, she had him, trapped in some sort of magic field which dragged him along behind her as she flew off just as quickly as she had flown in.

            “Son of a bitch!” Kelly shouted, spitting on the ground in disgust.

            “Hey, you lads seem upset, how’s about a song to cheer you up?” a small, way-too-high voice asked. They turned to see another one of those damn midgets standing there, with many of his brethren beginning to appear behind him.

            “Oh, that is IT! I WARNED you fuckers!” Cliff shouted, then attacked with shovel in hand, bashing the short ones in to the ground like railway spikes.

 

 

                                                A FEW MILES AWAY

 

 

            “Wh...what are you going to do to me?” Chad whimpered, cowering in the corner of the cage that this...woman had locked him inside of.

            “AHAHAHAHA! I’m the Bad Natured Woman From the NorthWest, and I believe I shall turn you intoooo...oh, let’s go with...a TOAD! Yes, a TOAD!” she rasped, then began shuffling through her book of ‘Magic For Bitter People’ until she found the correct spell. She turned back towards Chad after studying the page, then began to wave her arms about in the correct manner whilst speaking the prescribed words. Unfortunately, being an evil person, she really didn’t have a lot of friends, which drove her to drink. It didn’t take long for her constant depression to bring about the onset of full-fledged alcoholism. Now she drank constantly. In fact, she was hammered right now. This caused a few mistakes in her spell.

            Without warning, a great light flashed to Chad’s right, and he jumped so quickly in the other direction that he knocked his head against the bars, driving himself in to the wacky world of unconsciousness.

 

                                    SCANT MINUTES LATER, SAME HOUSE

 

            “Bitch, I asked you a question!” a familiar voice shouted from across the cage, causing Chad to begin to stir. Man, his head hurt. Then he remembered the spell, and leapt to his feet, shouting “Ribbit, ribbit!” as loudly as he could. Strange, didn’t sound particularly amphibian...

            “What the...who the fuck is this guy?!” the familiar voice demanded of the haggard evil-doer outside the enclosure. Chad looked up to see...

            “What the...” he started to say, then was interrupted by his own shock and lack of understanding.

            “Hey, what’s...AAAH! Dammit, what the FUCK is going on here?” Chad shouted. But it wasn’t the same Chad as before. No, two Chads now stood in their cell. One, the one who had knocked himself out, was his regular self. But the other one...this one stood tall, not backing down, a constant glowering expression on his face.

            “I...I don’t understand...” the woman muttered as she began reviewing her spell, then gave up and started in on a bottle of Jack.

            “FUCK! I don’t BELIEVE this!” ‘other’ Chad expounded.

            “I can scarcely believe it, either. Why, there are two of us.” Chad agreed.

            “What? No, not THAT shit...Hell, where I come from, that kinda weird stuff happens all the time. No, what I can’t believe is that the version of me that I guess YOU are is such...such a fuckin’ PANSY! It’s outright embarrassing!”

            “Hey, if ANYONE here is a version of someone ELSE, it’s YOU who are the version of ME, you...you...miscreant, you! Don’t hurt me!” Chad shouted, then entered his familiar cowering position.

            “Good God, man, grow a set! And as for YOU...” ‘other’ Chad now turned his attentions to the woman...”Big shock a woman with YOUR looks and intelligence is a fuckin’ drinker...say, why don’t you go grab yourself a six pack of Lysol...maybe snag a Clorox chaser?”

            “I...this isn’t...it can’t be real!” the woman stammered shakily, steeling herself with another pull from the bottle.

            “Yeah, well, I can’t believe that...’I’...am such a fuckin’ nancy, bitch, so why not hand over the bottle?” ‘other’ Chad asked. She obliged, already in too much of a drunken stupor to care. This Chad took a long pull himself, then smashed the bottle on the ground. Shards of glass scattered across the ground, while the remainder of the liquid inside splattered in droplets on the floor alongside. “Sorry, ‘CHAD’, but I just can’t let such a lame me knockoff exist anymore.” he continued, then began across the small cage towards Chad.

            “But...but...I...” Chad stammered, looking around, then quickly grabbed a jagged, dagger-like rock and held it before him, “Don’t...don’t make me use this on me...err...you...err...whatever...”

            “Please, you need a pair of balls to kill someone. See, I’ve killed thousands...aaah, my army of fodder...err...minions. Yes, minions. YOU, on the other hand, would probably offer a thousand apologies for brushing against someone.”

            “Well, it’s...it’s only polite to...”

            “Oh my fucking Christ! Tell me, do you sit to pee?” ‘other’ Chad asked, then lunged forward, thrusting the bottle forwards. Chad dropped in to a fetal position, waiting for the glass to enter him. Waiting for the feel of that jagged edge to rip in to his weak form. But, he never did feel it. After a few moments, he looked up. ‘Other’ Chad had slipped on some loose gravel before reaching Chad, which toppled him over on to Chad’s weapon. Now, he lay on the floor of the cell, with the sharp rock buried in his throat. Dead.

            “I’ve...I’ve won. I...I...AAAGGGHHH!” Chad screeched, clutching his chest as a guilt-induced heart attack sent pangs of pain spasming through his body. He looked up to ask the woman to help, but she was passed out on the floor.

 

 

                                    BACK AT THE APARTMENT OF JAMES

 

           

            “So, I guess we’ll just install this mo’fucker right now.” James said, popping the disc in to the CD-ROM drive of his laptop. Shaun, Sam and Liam watched over his shoulder as he activated the install program and watched the files change over to his hard drive. After a few minutes, it was complete. He started it up.

            “Thank you for choosing Microsoft for your perps bustin’ needs.” a smooth female voice told them from the computer speaker.

            “Thank you, kind lady.” Liam replied, leaning over so as to speak in to the speaker. Someday, James would have to have ‘the talk’ with Liam, and explain that little people weren’t actually inside the computer.    

            “So, what do we do now?” Shaun asked.

            “I really don’t know. It seems to be running something right now. Maybe it’s all totally customized for what we need.” James told them. Suddenly, a window popped up on screen. An error message was scrawled across it. Then another appeared...and another...and another. Soon, the screen was filled with a stack of error messages, all different.

            “Microsoft regrets to inform you that it’s program’s features have just overwhelmed the space-time continuum. We hope that, should you remain here with us once we have closed the portal, you will choose our products again.” the woman’s voice told them. Liam didn’t have a chance to talk back this time, as a blinding flash filled the room.

 

 

            “What the FUCK?!” Shaun stammered as he came to, and picked himself up off the ground. Where in the Hell was he? All around him, all that he could see was gray, barren landscape. He also quickly realized that the push he had given himself to get up off his back had in fact propelled him about six feet up in to the air. As he slowly floated back down again, he looked up in to the sky to see a familiar looking orb.

            “Wow, that looks like Earth...but...if that’s the Earth, why, that means I’m on...” Shaun’s eyes grew wide as the realization hit him square in the crotch...”THE MOON! HAHA! MAN has reached THE MOON! And I am the man who did it!” His glee caused him to bound across the lunar landscape, gleefully gulping down that fresh moon air that is of course perfectly breathable to him...because he is too stupid to realize it shouldn’t be. {Author’s Note : This IS a man, after all, who saw a Fox special detailing the conspiracy to convince us that man’s been on the moon, when we really haven’t, and took it at face value.}

            “Hey, mind keeping it down out here?” a withered old man asked as Shaun ran shrieking by his space domicile.

            “Sure, I...WHAT?”

            “Buzz, what the fuck’s the deal? You got any fours or not?” another man shouted from inside the structure.

            “Huh? Oh, no, uhhh...GO FISH!” Buzz yelled back, then returned his attentions to Shaun. “So, what brings you here, anyway?”

            “Uhhh...some kind of computer glitch, I guess. But it all works out pretty good, since I’m the first man on the moon and all.”

            “I seeeee. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? Buzz Aldrin? Neil Armstrong’s inside.”

            “Oh, yeah, you guys are legends! Greatest space con artists ever!”

            “Space c...uhhh...son, are you smacked out on the wacky tobaccy?”

            “No, I don’t eat much candy. Gets me too hyper.” Shaun answered.

            “I see...” Buzz sighed, then went on, “Son, we were on the moon DECADES ago.”

            “Well, that’s what NASA tries to tell us, anyway. Don’t worry, Bugg, secret’s safe with me!”

            “It’s BUZZ. Now, son, take a gander over yon way, and you’ll see an American flag...planted there by American astronauts over thirty years ago.”

            “I do see the flag. However, I know that it’s ACTUALLY just a holographic image sent from Earth by way of a microscopic carrier beam.” Buzz stood slack jawed for a moment, then went on.

            “Well, under that flag are a set of lunar footprints.”

            “You see, what happened there, is, some NASA guys climbed to the top of a REALLY  big building, I think it was the Empire State Building, and they put a footprint shape on the end of a REALLY long stick, and they just sunk it in to the moon all over the place.”

            “Son, if you’re the FIRST on the moon, then please explain what Neil Armstrong and I are doing here?” Buzz asked.

            “Well, you’re not actually there. Neither is that little cottage, or the Space Chrysler parked out front. In reality, a huge movie screen was erected here, and all of the images are actually being broadcast on to it from a secret station somewhere in Texas.”

            “Son, you’re beginning to grate on my nerves, and Neil gets pissy if I leave the game for too long, so I’ll limit myself to just one...more...question.” Buzz told the man, who nodded with anticipation. “See, Neil and I have been here for over fifteen years, so we’ve grown used to the lunar atmosphere, and no longer need to use space suits or portable oxygen canisters, because that’s how it works. You, however, haven’t had years to slowly adjust and ween yourself from breathable air.”

            “True enough.” Shaun agreed.

            “So, can you explain to me why your head hasn’t basically just...exploded yet?” Buzz asked.

            “Oh, well, you see, I...ummm...that is, I...oh.” Shaun replied. Buzz walked quickly back towards the house, not wanting any gore to splatter on to his Space Armani. {Author’s Note : Remember kids, you can do ANYTHING if you really want to! So, if you ever find yourself trapped underwater and running out of air, just believe you can breathe water, and start sucking it down! After all, if a fish, who is waaaaaaay down the evolutionary ladder from you, can do it, and not drown, you can too, right?!} [Another Author’s note : In case this is being read by some poor sod in Kansas, who’s reading this word ‘evolution’, and left scratching his or her head, let’s just say...God says you can breathe water if you want to. Really! He does! I talked to him just yesterday! And THEN I had this FASCINATING political debate with Karl Marx, Abraham Lincoln, and Elvis Presley, who really wasn’t invited, but he had these DIVINE fruit bars, and who are we to turn down baking?]

 

 

            “Sir? Sir, what is it?” the small man in the suit asked as he stepped towards Sam, who was peering skyward through the glass ceiling of the office he was in.

            “Huh? Oh, nothing I guess...thought I heard a faint popping way up in the sky, though...huh. Anyway, so, you were saying?”

            “Oh, yes, sir...as I was telling you, our sales have taken a bit of a dip recently, thanks to Coke’s new advertising campaign...‘Coke...we won’t give you herpes...unlike some competition we could mention.’” the man told him.

            “Hmmm...I see...I see...and this would affect me, because...” Sam asked.

            “Well, sir, because you’re...Pepsi CEO of course...are you sure you’re okay?” the man asked.

            “I’m quite fine, Smitty, quite fine indeed.”

            “My name’s...Percy, actually...”

            “Smitty, take this down...you are to go see our legal counsel, and have your name legally changed to Smitty at once, understand?”

            “Yes...yes sir.”

            “Then why are you still here, Smitty?” Sam asked. The man bolted, leaving Sam alone in the huge office. Finally, finally some POWER. Sure, someone else might be asking billions of questions about how they dropped in to the situation the way he apparently had, but Sam’s motto had always been...’command others first...find stuff out if there’s time later.’ He was cackling softly to himself when the door opened.

            “Sir, you wanted to see me?” another man asked as he stepped inside.

            “I did?” Sam asked.

            “Yes...yes, I believe so, sir?”

            “And I wanted to see you, because...?”

            “I haven’t the foggiest sir.”

            “Oh, come now, Johnson, I’m SURE you have some IDEA of why I wanted you here?”

            “Ummm...I’m Beeston, sir, I...”

            “Dammit, Johnson, you’re avoiding the question! Answer me!”

            “Sir, I suppose it had something to do with...”

            “To do with...WHAT? Spit it OUT, man! I sense a bit of ATTITUDE from you, Johnson, and I don’t like it...I don’t like it at ALL! In FACT, I believe you must be taught a lesson in SPITTING things OUT!” Sam roared, then motioned Johnson/Beeston over to him as he unzipped his pants, “You will suckle this man-teat until further notice, do you UNDERSTAND?!”

            “Sir, I won’t...sir, your conduct is TOTALLY uncalled for! I shall be making a complaint of  sexual harassment!”

            “I SEE, Johnson, bit of a troublemaker, are we? Well, I suppose that as my employee, you have the legal right to such actions.”

            “I certainly do, sir!”

            “AHA! But, guess what, Johnson, you’re FIRED! THERE! I can’t be harassing an employee who doesn’t work for me, can I?! Now suck my wang!”

            “SIR, you shall HEAR from my LAWYER!” Johnson shrieked, then ran like a little girl. Sam dashed to the door, and threw it open.

            “SHIRLEY!” he snarled to his receptionist, “Johnson has been FIRED! And get me someone who can help me with this...this COKE business!” he bellowed. Within minutes, another employee entered the room.

            “So, Billsworth, any ideas?” Sam asked.

            “Uh, sir, my name is...” Sam glared at him, “totally irrelevant at this juncture, oh high and mighty one. Well, I was thinking, we could maybe launch a cross-generational ad campaign.”

            “Are you suggesting, Billsworth, that we dress up men in women’s clothing and send them out to promote SALES?” Sam asked.

            “What? Oh, no, NO...cross-GENERATIONAL, sir. See, we’ve always geared Pepsi towards the young people. I think we need to start targeting older markets as well. Maybe our next line of ads could feature an icon who would appeal to older folks, like Britney Spears appealed to any consumer old enough to jerk off in our LAST ad campaign.”

            “Like Marilyn Monroe, perhaps.” Sam suggested.

            “Yes, sir, right idea. But, you know, maybe someone alive...”

            “Dammit Billsworth, if I tell you I want Marilyn Monroe in an ad, you will PUT Marilyn Monroe in a fucking ad, do you UNDERSTAND ME? I don’t care if you have to jam your own hand in to her skeletal little head and make her talk puppet-style! But it scarcely matters, as your idea is STUPID at BEST! Marketing towards older people? Do you know what all older people have in common, Billsworth? They’re all closer to death than the young! I won’t have us spending up our marketing budget to sell things to dead people!”

            “But, sir, I...”

            “SHUT UP, Billsworth! Luckily for YOU, I have a BETTER idea! You will take the entire marketing budget and hire some mercenaries. They will be commanded to destroy Coke once and for all!”

            “Sir, are you suggesting I launch some form of commando raid against Coke?”

            “EXACTLY! How better to defeat an enemy than to slaughter them like hogs?! Get ON it, Billsworth!”

 

                                                EIGHT HOURS LATER

           

            “What is the news from the front?” Sam demanded. He had converted his palatial office in to a war room, right down to the military-style uniforms he demanded the employees wear.

            “Sir, it appears that our first strike has been unsuccessful. Their infrastructure took some damage, but...”

            “INFRASTRUCTURE? I care not for ruined INFRASTRUCTURE! Such damage can be REPAIRED! What CANNOT be repaired is the assassination of their CEO’s and executives! Dammit!” Sam shouted. Just then, a toadie dressed like a Navy Ensign dashed in.

            “Sir, the portable defibrillation packs you order are here.” he told Sam.

            “Good. Distribute them immediately. Stress at work rises, I provide a solution. Don’t say I don’t care about my employees!”

            “Sir, this stress could be caused by the guerrilla warfare that Coke’s mercenaries have been engaged in from floor twenty on down. Every staff member is suddenly a lot more concerned about workplace related death than they were before.

            “Silence! I TOLD you what to do about the Coke guerrillas! We will fight fire with fire! Now get back on that phone, and start calling zoos until you find US some gorillas! I will not surrender!”

            “Sir, what should we do about Coke themselves?” Billsworth asked.

            “It is time to escalate the hostilities. Make contact with the Russian Mafia, and obtain some tactical nuclear warheads. Then, hire Timothy McVeigh, and have him drive the weapons right in to Coke’s lobby.” Sam told him.

            “Sir, Tim McVeigh is dead. He was executed months ago.” Sam answered Billsworth by shooting him once through the head.

            “Stupid, STUPID little man! I TOLD him, when I WANT someone, I GET someone! My hot Lebanese blood cannot take more of this! Now, WHO is going to...” Sam started, when suddenly the doors burst open. Commandos dressed in red tactical combat gear hosed down everyone in the room with machine gun fire. As their bodies collected on the ground, the raid leader strode up to Sam, and leveled the weapon at his head, pulling the trigger at point blank range.

 

 

            “What the fuck...” James mumbled as he climbed out from under his computer desk. He’d jumped beneath it as soon as the errors started to mount. Who could forget the LAST time that had happened, at work. One becomes wary of error-ridden machines once one’s machine springs to life and begins squeezing one’s nuts in a bundle of co-axial cable. He clambered out, then looked up to see Sam meet his grisly end on the monitor.

            “BOY da FOCK!” a voice shouted from behind him. He whirled to see a lone Newfie sitting there on his floor, clad in one of those hooded rubber raincoats that a fisherman wears.

            “Who the Hell are you?” James asked the man. The reply was a jumbled garble which was virtually unpronounceable, much less typable in any way. James was broken from his stare of total noncomprehension as Atti strolled in.

            “Listen, guys, I was wrong. I mean, I still hate you all, but I was wrong to think that people in this uncultured world of ours would give a rat’s ass about giant robots locked in a titanic struggle between good and evil. And so, I got nothing to do, figured I’d stop here.” he vocalized, then caught sight of James and his new Newfie ‘friend’.

            “What the fuck is going on here?” Atti asked. James brought him up to speed.

            “Oh...so that’s why Liam’s in your monitor?” Atti asked. James looked to see that the view had switched from Sam’s corpse, to that of Liam in a distant jungle.

            “Fuck, we gotta get him outta there before he buys it, too!” James shouted, then began feverishly typing, trying to find a trapdoor in the program. Atti helped. In the background, the program continued to run.

 

 

            “Well, I’m sure as Hell not in Kansas anymore. Not that I was to begin with, either. Man, these trees are big.” Liam mumbled to himself as he began to wander about, taking stock of his surroundings. After a few minutes of ambling about aimlessly, he came to a clearing. In the middle of this plain, was a small collection of huts, and myriad natives wandering about, carrying armloads of plants of some sort to what was obviously a fire pit in the middle of their small little town.

            “Who you be?” a man asked him. Liam looked to his side to see a native warrior standing there, maybe ten feet away, his spear raised.

            “Woah there, kemosabbe! My name is Liam. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here...exactly.”

            “Mmmm...outlander Liam...welcome in our circle. Come. Come.” the man told him, then lowered his spear, and motioned that Liam could come out from the cover of the jungle. Liam did so, then walked with the man to his home. The rest of the villagers gathered around to take a look at the stranger in their midst.

            “Uhh...you sure this is okay, man?” Liam asked the warrior, a bit nervous at all the attention.

            “They simply curious. Want to see white man up close.”

            “I...I see...say, ummm...what is your name, anyway?”

            “You call me...Muumuu...it mean ‘man who wear dress when he alone’. For comfort, of course.” the man told him.

            “Of course, of course! Nothing more than that! Anyway, Muumuu...how exactly did you learn English?” Liam asked.

            “English? We all know English!” another of the tribesmen shouted.

            “Yes, but...where did you learn it from? Are there missionaries out here?”

            “No, we learn from...narrator.” Muumuu replied.

            “Narrator?”

            “Yes. His full name...National Geographic Narrator.” Just as he said the name aloud, a booming voice thundered across the landscape...

            “This is South America...circa 1253...in the area of the continent now known as Columbia. But at that time in Earth’s history, it was simply part of this particular tribe’s territory. There were no borders or maps, just small fiefdoms occasionally disputed by war.”

            “That’s...that’s the narrator?” Liam asked.

            “Yes...Narrator...teach us much.” Liam came to the realization that he was not only trapped in the year 1253, but that he was trapped in a National Geographic special in the year 1253. Actually, it didn’t seem to faze him too much.

            “Huh...sorta reminds me of a guy where I come from...except he’s named...Author.” Liam told Muumuu.

            “He like narrator?”

            “Well, not so much with the teaching of history, much more so with the fearmongering and the removal of the testes.” Liam told his friend.

            “This author...not sound like me like him.”        

            “No, he’s a right prick, actually. So, what you up to right now, anyway?” Liam asked. It was narrator who replied.

            “However, as you can plainly see, no war currently mars the lush landscape. Today is a harvest day, and this tribe is picking the wild coffee beans growing around them.”

            “Wow, kickass! A brimming mug of coffee will certainly help right now.” Liam said out loud. This drew many stares of confusion from around him, as the people of the village gathered around the pile of coffee beans stacked high in the fire pit, then lit them ablaze. “AAAAH! What the FUCK is WRONG with YOU people! This is taking dry roasting a BIT too far!” Liam shouted.

            “Friend Liam...you calm down...no need worry...fire not attack you.”

            “No, I know THAT, Muumuu, but you people are BURNING the coffee!” Liam screamed.

            “What you have us do...clear-cut forest? Burn that? HAHA! What idiot do that?”

            “But, Muumuu, don’t you realize you can DRINK coffee?” Liam asked him. This drew silence from the whole village, as they stared at Liam and his crazy ideas. So, he picked some beans, put them in a crude, clay cup, and crushed them with a stone, then went to the stream and added water. After a few stirs, he served the mug of brackish liquid to Muumuu, who took a few tentative sips...then smiled. Soon, the village was alive with laughter, as everyone joined in, grinding up as much coffee as they could find. Within hours, the buzz they had on would have been capable of powering electric lights, had they been invented yet.

 

 

            “Dammit James, you got it all wrong! Put the colon THERE, turn this statement around...Voila, you got your code!” Atti corrected, then sat back to admire his work.

            “Man...how the fuck do you know how to program some way to pull someone out of a computer?” James asked.

            “Well, this one time at work, this guy’s daughter got sucked in to the monitor by a sort of demon. Anyway, we had to find a way to get her out. In the end, he got impatient and threw a rope in for her, but the code was a viable option that WOULD have WORKED!”

            “Atti, that was Poltergeist, but she was sucked in to a fucking TV, you bloody idiot!”

            “Oh, right. But, you know, I wrote this up while I was watching it, and it should work. What?” Atti asked. James sighed, then looked back at the screen to see what was up.

 

 

            “Muumuu likey likey coffee drinking!” Liam’s friend shouted as he sat, shuddering and convulsing as he finished off his sixtieth cup.

            “Yeah, yeah...it’s, uhhh...it’s not bad at all, eh?” Liam asked him. He was growing nervous at the growing level of caffeinated glee that had spread throughout the village’s populace.

            “Muumuu! News bad!” another native, his name was Shaqfu, shouted as he returned to the circle from the coffee fields nearby. His harvesting basket was empty.

            “What is, Shaqfu? Why you no bring coffee?” Muumuu demanded.

            “No more coffee bring! All gone!” Everyone gasped at the utterance of these words, for coffee was the village’s sole means of economic trade. They often swapped it with other tribes for items they required, such as maize, grain, and primitive pornographic stone etchings.

            “We drink all coffee? We drink all coffee?!” Muumuu shouted hysterically as he rose.

            “Muumuu! Hunger! Coffeebelly is the shits!” Zador, another tribesman, shouted. Indeed, all of the natives seemed to be afflicted with the distended bloating and acid burn known as coffee belly.

            “We have no food! No coffee trade for food!” Muumuu told him.

            “Wait, boys, wait, howzabout we all just mosey on over to the nearest Denny’s? I’m sure we can scrape together enough for some grand slam breakfasts.” Liam reasoned with them.

            “Who Denny be?” Muumuu asked.

            “Why, he’s the greatest retard who ever lived! This lovable man fought through the barrier of uselessness that afflicts all handicapped people, and created a massive restaurant franchise beloved equally by half drunken morons on their way home from the bar, the truly unemployable looking for places to spend the remnants of their welfare checks after cigarette and lottery ticket purchases, and the dregs of the human species who have nowhere else to live out their pitiful lives.” Liam explained. [Author’s note : I cannot speak for my friends, all of whom have various questionable quirks about them, but I personally fall squarely in to category three on the above list.]

            “This help not! Still hungry am I!” Shaqfu lamented. Liam couldn’t help but note that, the more desperate these tribesmen became, the more they began to sound like Yoda.

            “Wait! We eat...we FEAST upon meat!” Muumuu told his fellow tribe members.

            “But no chickens left have we!”

            “No eat chicken...OTHER white meat!” Muumuu told the others, who all stared now at Liam.

            “Hey, no problems here.” He told them. Liam truly enjoyed pork. And he really enjoyed how the tribe members picked him up and carried him over to the cooking area, like the hero he was. Yes, he had shown them coffee. He had truly shone the light of invention in to this dark area of the world.

            “Hmmm...need more salt.” Zador mumbled as he dipped his finger in to Liam’s herbal bath, then began scraping more in, straight off the rock.

            “Really, folks, you don’t need to give me a relaxing hot tub bathing before we eat, not that I’m complaining, mind you!” Liam told them, then sat back and relaxed in the big, steel tub. Too bad it was round...didn’t really let him stretch out. And what was with all the fucking carrots?

 

 

            “Jesus, Atti, do it! there’s no time to check it again, just fucking do it!” James ordered. Atti grimaced, slapped the Enter key, and both of them dove under the desk. Another blinding flash of light filled the room for an instant, then was gone. James and Atti slowly crept out from under the now smoldering desk, atop which sat the melted hulk of what used to be a computer. Scorch marks adorned the walls like shadows. Here and there, bits of the carpet burned softly. And in the center of it all...sat Liam.

            “Lum! It worked! You’re back!” James shouted, leaping about gleefully before making his way over to help his friend up off the floor.

            “Yay...you’re back and all. Neat.” Atti mumbled. Sure, he was thrilled that his code had worked, but the return of another of his ‘friends’ did little to please him.

            “Man, guys, I was havin’ a nice bath! And, lemme tell ya, some of those village chicks were lookin’ at me, lickin’ their lips...I think I was gonna score!” Liam lamented. His buddies were about to correct him, when another voice rang out from the far corner of the room. A weird sort of echo effect followed it.

            “Will someone get this thing OFF OF MY HEAD?!” Monique screamed. Liam ran over and pulled the ‘hot tub’ cauldron from off of her.

            “That was MY bath! Ooooo...why I outta...ooooo...OOOOOOO!” Liam snarled, holding his fist pendulously in the air, but, in the end, he did not land the blow.

            “What the fuck is going on in here?” Monique demanded.

            “Well, see, Liam was stuck in the computer, so we had to get him out, and then you got a pot on your head.” James explained.

            “What are you talking aboot?” Monique asked him, calming slowly as she shook off the detritus of carrot and onion that had spattered against her.

            “Monique, stop talking like a Newfie, for God’s sake!” Atti pleaded.

            “Ummm...pardon me?” another voice queried. Everyone looked over to see the same Newfie as before standing there, shaking legumes off of his hood.

            “Who’s this guy?” Liam asked, hooking a thumb in his direction.

            “Oh, sorry all, name’s Bob. I’m a fisherman from Newfoundland.” the figure introduced himself, shaking Liam’s hand while doing so.

            “Oh, well, nice to meet you, Bob. Man, quite the grip you’ve got there! SOMEONE’S been wrasslin’ with the Turbot, eh? EH?”

            “Ummm...yes, whatever. Anyway, I couldn’t help but overhear your earlier comment about someone speaking like a Newfie?” he asked.

            “Yeah, that was me.” Atti fessed up, “Uhhh...on that topic...you really don’t sound all that much like the ol’ Newfie cliches I’ve always heard, Bob. Sure you’re not from...New Brunswick or something?” Atti asked. He had scarcely finished his sentence, when Bob was in front of him, a knife against Atti’s throat, and a murderous gleam in his eye.

            “Don’t ever...EVER...confuse a Newfoundlander with one of those goddamn Brunswickers, you understand? Rotting lot of savages would sell their mother to a Jewish polar bear, they would...and twice on Sunday!” he spat.

            “Yes...well...if that senseless little diatribe is quite over with, Bob?” James asked. Bob stepped back and returned the blade to it’s belt sheath. “You really don’t sound much like any Newfoundlander I’ve ever heard of.”

            “See, those are just stories. Really, we speak as normally as anyone else.”

            “Wow. I had no idea.” Liam admitted, joined by the others, except Monique, who bullheadedly refused to give in.

            “What the Hell are you talking aboot?” she asked him.

            “Now, see, that’s just not even a frigging WORD. You flatlanders and your lingo...I tell ya!” Bob chuckled. Monique, however, grew very serious, her face becoming ashen.

            “No...no, it is a word...it’s a word...it’s a LEGITIMATE word! No...NO! NOOOOO!” she yelled. Thunder cracked seemingly within the room, and a voice boomed.

            “You have brought disgrace upon the order! You know the penalty for such an act as you have committed!”

            “Hey, I remember you! Say, whatever happened to that tribe in 1253, anyway? They prosper sellin’ off the Yuban?” Liam asked.

            “Idiot, I am no narrator! I am a judge! And I am...an EXECUTIONER!” the voice cracked once more as a vortex opened up in the roof overtop of Monique.

            “You can’t do this! Do you hear me! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, staring up in to the swirling, inky pool of darkness above her, “I AM THE LAW!” These were to be her final words, as a torrent of massive dictionaries suddenly poured forth from the opening, crushing her in to the floor beneath their weight. Then, the vortex was gone. The room returned to normal.          

            “I think it’s time to move.” James commented. Everyone clambered over the pile of books marking the grave, as James and Atti discussed the possibility of him ever seeing his damage deposit again.

 

 

            “Mortals! Bow before my presence!” a loud voice boomed. As it spoke, smoke of many colors erupted from the ground around Kelly and Cliff, choking off the air with the acrid stench of potpourri.

            “Damn, that’s pungent!” Cliff exclaimed.

            “I ran out of regular smoke and was forced to use second rate aromatherapy from Acme...sorry about that.” the voice told them, a little quieter this time around.

            “So, are you the guru? Have we reached the end of our journey?” Kelly asked.

            “Yes, I am. And you have indeed reached your quest’s end, if I was in fact your quest. If you’re looking for McGillicuddy’s Meats, it’s another block South.”

            “No...no, we were looking for you.” Cliff said.

            “Good. Now, make with the bowing!” the voice commanded.

            “Fuck you! Do you KNOW how sore my legs are after that trek? I ain’t bowin’ down to no motherfuckin’ disembodied voice!” Cliff yelled defiantly.

            “Goddamn humans, the stupid DOGS never complain about...fine...FINE, I’m coming out there!” the voice told them. As they waited, the sounds of someone bustling about behind a great curtain about twenty feet away from them could be heard. Kelly and Cliff had both seen enough fairy tales to know to look down...waaaaaaaay down. These massively oversized doorways were always set to be permanently misleading.

            “Son of a BITCH!” Kelly expounded as the man, easily twelve feet tall, emerged from his room. Before Mr. Harll had even finished speaking, Cliff had dropped to his knees and begun praising the Guru like he was an almighty mullah.

            “That’s sufficient...you may rise. Now, what has brought you to see me?” the Guru asked.

            “Well, sir, we require your help.” Kelly told him.

            “Oh for...can’t you people ever solve your own little crises? It’s always ‘Help me with this!’, and ‘Tell me about that!’. Nobody ever comes by to maybe have a beer and catch the game. It’s always give, give, give with you people!” the Guru complained.

            “Well, look at it from the bright side, man...you ain’t gay if you’re not takin’, right?” Cliff asked him. The Guru appreciated the joke so much that he smacked Cliff about twenty feet in to a wall.

            “Sorry about your friend.”

            “Hey, don’t apologize to me, I’ve wanted to do that for years! In fact...” Kelly started as he walked over to Cliff’s prone and unconscious form, “This is for all the Claire jokes!” he shouted, accentuating his comment with a swift kick to the ribs. Then, he headed over to where the Guru was waiting.

            “Hmmmm...fine form. Anyway, if it is help you seek, then it is help I shall try to give you.”

            “Guru, two gnomes have recruited me and my friends on a very important mission. It seems that one known only by the moniker, ‘the Evil One’, is planning to destroy the world, and only we can stop him.”

            “I see. Quite the situation. So, what seems to be the problem?”

            “Well, we can’t figure out who this ‘Evil One’ even IS.” Kelly explained.

            “Quite a problem. Well, Kelly, I CAN help you with your problem. I can tell you that something is not as it should be in our world. Once you solve THAT problem, this ‘Evil One’ shall be unmasked. But then, you shall STILL need to defeat him and his legions!”

            “What the fuck is with you ‘guide’ characters?! Jesus fucking Christ! Could you BE more cryptic?!” Kelly began to rant.

            “Well, we could be dead and buried...huh...HUH?!” Guru joked, then began to speak again when Kelly simply stared in angry silence, “Get it?...Cryptic...dead...oh, never mind. Kelly, since I am very good friends with Galein and Hazabas, I shall be forthright with you. The Evil One is none other than...” Guru was cut off by a loud thunderclap, and in an instant, ‘Author’ had appeared beside him.

            “How DARE you give away the secret over which I have slaved for many a month! You shall NEVER speak a word of it!” he snarled, then removed Guru’s mouth with a wave of his hand. With another wave, Guru simply began to melt. “Perhaps a case of twenty four second Ebola will teach you a lesson!”

            “NOOOOOOOO!” Cliff screamed as he jumped from behind Kelly and tackled the Author, driving him in to the ground. “We have been oppressed by the likes of you for TOO LONG. I won’t STAND for it any...say...you look sort of familiar...”

            “Yeah, uhhh...must be a fluke.” Author distracted Cliff, then delivered a cheap shot to his groin. Cliff responded with a totally dirty throat shot, and the two went on in like fashion for a few moments before, in another roaring thunderclap, they were gone as quickly as the Author had first appeared.

 

 

            “You’re ordering the country GRAVY?” James asked Liam with incredulity, “Jesus, why don’t you just spray semen all over your steak and be done with it!” This drove away Carmen, who began to quiver with barely suppressible rage as she staggered  from the table. The stupidity and vulgarity were oppressive anywhere nearby the reach of it’s conversation.

            “Man, James, you’ve really gotta...KELLY? what are you doing back here?” Liam asked. Indeed, Kelly now found himself standing beside the table, back at Denny’s in a flash. He slowly sat down, a somber look drenching his face in shades of taupe. (Author’s note : Really, is there a more somber color than taupe? Come ON!)

            “So, did you meet with The Guru?” Liam asked...again.

            “Yeah, what is he like, anyway?” James added.

            “A big puddle of liquefied insides.” Kelly responded.

            “Wow. THAT had to be a bit of a let down. You go to meet this big genius type guy, and end up talking to a fucking puddle.” James remarked.

            “Cliff and Chad are gone. I still don’t know who this ‘Evil One’ is. I can’t do this anymore!” Kelly raged.

            “Yeah, we’re basically all that’s left, here. Shaun blew up on the moon...Sam blew up at Pepsicorp...Vlad blew up when he started kicking the giant dry ice bomb he’d deposited at the front door of our boss’s place...” James remarked.

            “But, if you give up...if WE give up, who can save the planet from this ‘Evil One’?” Liam asked Kelly, who reached across the table and grabbed him by his shirt collar.

            “I don’t give a flying fuck, do you understand?! I CAN’T DO IT!” Kelly might have continued ranting, but a funeral dirge suddenly began to play. And he let go of Liam’s shirt in shock when a legion of monkeys began to slowly filter through the front door of the eating establishment. Not just any monkeys, but Sam’s collection of uber-chimps, who had spent years working on various technological projects for him while he still lived. Now, they simply mourned his loss. And the furry procession seemed to be heading towards Kelly, Liam and James.

            “Dammit, will you frigging monkeys hurry up?!” Dave shrieked, finally forcing his way through the collection of knee high beasts, many of whom stared at him, not able to believe his impudence. One gave him the finger.

            “Hey, Dave, sorry we weren’t at Sam’s funeral.” James told him as he reached their booth.

            “Yeah, we were...uhhh...workin’ on some ‘get the evil guy’ plans, important stuff. Big stuff.” Liam told him, at the same time giving James the ‘Don’t let him know we’ve spent the past twenty one hours here at Denny’s making fun of French people’ signal. James responded with a look of ‘I have defused the device...with his nuclear arsenal disarmed, let us set off after Saddam himself’. He was still getting the hang of the complex system of signals Liam and Cliff had used for years.

            “Doesn’t matter anymore. We’ll never find the ‘Evil One’...we’ll never defeat him.” Kelly somberly intoned.

            “Then Sam truly has died for nothing!” Dave exclaimed. This drew the ire of many of the monkeys, particularly little Avgul, who proceeded to kick Dave’s shins repeatedly. “Okay, fine...FINE...ASIDE from his legacy of legions of super-monkeys, who recently have learned that shit is not a toy.” The monkeys rejoiced as one, leaping about with glee, little Omar disempacting himself and hurling his feces at nearby diners. This ended the party, as the other apes pulled Omar away for ‘re-education’.

            “Yeah, just lay that on me, too, man. ‘Evil One’ wins...Kelly’s fault...everyone’s dead...Kelly’s fault...Sam has no legacy, beyond a truly monumental collection of credit card bills...Kelly’s fault.” Kelly mumbled to himself, drowning in self-pity.

            “No, I’d blame the last one on financial institutions actually entrusting Sam with ‘money’.” James commented.

            “Kelly...Sam wanted you to have this, he said it would help in your mission. Even though you’ve given up quicker than the French, you still may as well have the fucking thing.” Dave told him, then handed him a strange metal box, wiring and bits of metal protruding from various parts.

            “Wow, thanks Dave, just what I wanted...a big piece of crap. Christmas truly has come early this year.” Kelly moaned.

            “It’s Sam’s doomsday device.”

            “Well, what does it actually do?” James asked.

            “Hmmm...what does the doomsday device do...well, see, it spritzes the air with a refreshing scent of pine...what the fuck do you think it does?” Dave asked.

            “Well, what’s with the fins?”

            “Uhhh...it supposedly flies. You know, about as well as those Tampax pads do.”

            “And the color?” Kelly asked.

            “It’s SAM. You’re SURPRISED that it’s striped in alternating bands of violet and peach?” Dave asked. Kelly was about to ‘happily’ begin complaining again, when he found himself suddenly sitting upon a rock in a familiar meadow.

            “Galein...Hazabas...dammit, didn’t you hear me? I give up! I can’t do it!” Kelly shouted. There was no reply, though there seemed to be an odd sensation of movement underneath him. He stood and looked back to see the two gnomes get up off of the ground and dust themselves off.

            “Yeah, thanks for THAT, shitbag!” Galein roared.

            “Nothing more pleasant than being slowly suffocated by the ass of a human! By the way, enjoy the hemorrhoids!” Hazabas added.

            “Uhhh...I don’t have any ‘roids...” Kelly told him.

            “Yeah...NOW. Gnome magic may take awhile to percolate, but I think you’ll be pretty focused on it in a few days.”

            “Listen, guys, I give up. Find another quester to be slowly driven mad by your pointless clues and seemingly endless quest that’s rapidly losing it’s sense of direction.” Kelly told them.

            “There is no one else...only you. You either succeed, or the world dies. It’s pretty simple.” Hazabas snarled.

            “Well then...if the world’s gonna’ end anyway, why not speed the whole thing up?” Kelly asked, then pressed the button on the device.

 

 

            “Hmm...piney.” Hazabas commented, taking a deep inhale of the lovely scented air.

            “Oh for...okay, NOW it’s time for the world to end.” Kelly said, then pressed the blue button underneath the machine.

 

 

            “Hey, porno!” Galein noted with much glee. All sat down to watch, when...”Wait a minute...two guys...where are the girls?”

            “Don’t worry, they’re just getting ready for the ladies to show up.” Hazabas told him. A few minutes later, the two guys were naked on the bed, in full on stroke mode.

            “Not much of a budget...the poor guys have to fluff each other! Where are the GIRLS?” Galein wondered aloud.

            “Well, they must be...what...aaah...AAAAH! That doesn’t go there! No...NO! Make it stop!” Hazabas screamed, as he and Galein shot accusing stares at Kelly, who threw what had become a small projector on to the ground and stomped it until it ceased.

            “My God, you are a merciless fuck, aren’t you?” Galein shouted at Kelly, who had picked what was left of the machine back up.

            “AAAAAAHHHH!” he bellowed as he pressed the final button.

 

           

            “What the...hey...where are we?” Kelly asked, finding himself standing at the foot of a hill with James and Liam. Only the spire of a church could be seen poking in to the air from atop the rise.

            “Sweet mother of fuck!” Cliff shouted. Everyone did a double take as they realized that, yes, Cliff WAS there. And standing next to him was Chad.

            “But...you guys were dead! I...we...we saw it!” James protested. This drew a backhand from Chad. “What was that for?” James demanded as he rubbed his jaw.

            “You...uhhh...you were hysterical.” Chad replied.

            “Chad...your now bitter, angry actions and words...they seem...seem...normal, somehow.” Liam said. Everyone nodded in agreement.

            “Wait, I still don’t understand how you guys can BE here.” James salabbered. (Author’s note : As is my tradition, I have grown bored with the usual words, and made one up. Enjoy.)

            “Perhaps I can answer those questions.” A voice spoke from above. All looked up to see the visage of the Author peering down at them from the clouds. “You see, the world you WERE in had been tampered with. Reality itself had been altered to protect the stronghold which now lays before you. A sort of...temporal bubble had been erected around this small town to seal it from intruders. The bubble also caused fluctuations within the continuum which binds space and time together, resulting in several...changes within the world as you knew it. Now everything is as it should be. Hence, your friend Chad’s return to his normal persona.”

            “I was left trapped in limbo for all but a few pages of this story...watching some nancyass savant pass himself off as ME...unable to ACT. Who would do such a thing?!” Chad demanded.

            “Only one people could truly achieve something this abominable and feel no remorse for it.”

            “Does anyone else smell cheese?” Atti asked.

            “Atti! You’re back!” Liam shouted gleefully.

            “Yes, he too has been returned.” the author explained.

            “But he was never dead to begin with!” Kelly complained.

            “No, he wasn’t. But the ‘Evil One’ and his followers stole his character from my memory temporarily. This is why he wasn’t in the last scene. Yes...that’s it...my perfectly...plausible explanation...others who have been taken in such a way may also make a glorious return.” the Author told them all, eyes glancing rapidly from one side to the other as he finished speaking, a nervous giggle escaping his lips before he regained his composure.

            “Again, Author, who would do something so horrible?” Liam asked.

            “Dammit, I smell CHEESE.” Atti again commented. Suddenly, it was obvious.

            “THE FRENCH!” the group shouted as one.

            “Truly.” the Author told them, “Not just any French, but those of...Beaumont.”

            “They’ll pay for their crimes...but I still have more questions. How did Cliff come to be resurrected?” Kelly asked.

            “Who said he was ever killed? Actually he and I ended up getting along quite well. We were enjoying a few beers and watching the game when you mortals finally solved the puzzle.”

            “Hey, who won, anyway?” Cliff asked.

            “Miami...27-14. I believe you owe me your nutsack.”

            “Oh, come on, man, cut me a break?” Cliff pleaded.

            “Are you trying to back out of our bet?” the Author asked.

            “No...NO...I just...uhhh...double or nothing, next week?” Cliff asked.

            “Hmmm...indeed. Sounds okay to me.” Ha! the idiot! Cliff had but ONE nutsack...he’d only lose one! what a gloriou...oh...wait...damn.

            “Okay, so...how come Shaun, Monique and Sam are still gone?” Kelly asked.

            “Well, their characters actually did die. I could resurrect them, but I’m riding one of my many whims, one telling me......no. Now, really, this is growing quite tiresome. Would you MIND maybe climbing the hill and killing the ‘Evil One’ and his minions? I do have a story to write, here, and would like for it to contain more than a neverending dialogue that’s trying to spackle over a few dozen plot holes in one fell swoop.” With that, Author was gone. The group was left with nothing but a task. And the group of six began to climb the hill.

            “Careful, guys...there’s much Frenchery afoot. I can sense it.” Kelly warned them as they ascended.

 

           

            “So, you’ve breached my fortress of solitude!” the ‘Evil One’ greeted them as they reached the top.

            “Ummm...you’re not exactly alone...” Atti remarked, noticing many others wandering about the town.

            “Yes...well...fortress of people-going-about-their-daily-business just doesn’t have much of a ring to it, okay?” he spat back, “Now, you shall learn the horrible truth about my identity. HAHAHA!” he continued, then, with a wave of his hand, brushed away the shadow which, until this point, had left his face constantly shrouded in mystery. And, you know, shadow.

            “This cannot BE!” Kelly raged, unable to accept the sight before him. For there, across the field of battle, stood...himself.

            “Yes, Kelly, it is true...I AM you!” Evil Kelly shouted with glee.

            “We did not, did not have a clue!” Liam chimed in, bringing the Dr. Seuss’-style rhyme to it’s ‘logical’ conclusion.

            “But how can this be? How can you be...be ME! Tell me, you bastard! I demand it!” Kelly shouted.

            “Silence yourself, man, and I will explain! It’s forced upon me by Evildoers’ Local 406...in the contract...once I’m confronted by the hero, I must lay out my origins and plan.”

            “Wow, that kinda sucks.” James commented.

            “Yeah, well, we had to make some concessions to get that dental plan...anyway! Now, hear the story!” As his final word echoed around the countryside, just outside the township of Beaumont, several other familiar figures appeared beside Evil Kelly.

            “My GOD!” Atti gasped when confronted with the sight of Michelle, Pete, Claire and Alana, as well as every other member of Beaumont’s population under the age of twenty five. “Somebody has cloned ALL of them!”

            “No no, dear Atti...it’s really us.” Alana informed them.

            “AAAAAAHHHHH!” Atti screamed. Things had gotten worse. As the screaming died down, Michelle began to speak.

            “Kelly...back in the days of yore, you visited our fair town with the one known as...Tim. While you were here, your blood was drawn by a lumberjack mosquito...well, to be fair, a robotic replica of one. It was couriered by motorcycle-riding ninjas, whom you may hear, but will never see, to a small building outside of town, where our resident witch doctor...”

            “Witchdoctah, woo!” Kelly exclaimed. He had simply felt...drawn to do so.

            “Yes...well, anyway, he and the rest of our...Beaumont consortium...used the DNA collected by the robotic insect to replicate you. Only, we isolated the evil genes, thus creating a super-villain Kelly.”

            “My GOD. You’ll pay for this...ALL of you will pay!” Kelly intoned. With those words said, the two sides drew together, sort of like in one of those big battle scenes from Braveheart. The battle was on.

            “We shall defeat ze both of you, zen move on to your friendz and unclez!” the leader of the ‘Beaumont militia’, a fearsome band of those not yet old enough to realize that the sweater vest does not make the man, shouted. Cliff and Liam stood for a moment, stunted by the nonsensical saying, before finally striking, and striking hard.

            “It’s not over ‘til it’s over!” Liam shouted.

            “Out of the frying pan and in to the fire!” Cliff yelled.

            “The grass is always greener on the other side!” The onslaught of time-worn cliches never ceased, and the two cut through the hordes of French losers like a scythe through wheat.

 

 

            “Hello, Chad!” Michelle screeched as she jumped upon the back of Chad and began clawing at his face. He managed to shrug her off, then turned to face her.

            “Hahaha...you can’t hit me, Chad, I’m a woman!” Chad replied with a meaty fist driven so hard in to her nose that it sent her rolling backwards for about five feet. As she rose, blood spurting from between the fingers clutched over her face, he spoke.

            “No, you’re not. My brother has more girlish curves than you do. And besides, it wouldn’t matter to me if you were.” That out of the way, he attacked, pinning her to the ground. As he sat astride her torso, he rained a torrent of wild lefts and rights, one after another, down upon her head. Michelle realized too late that she had acted as she would have towards the weak Chad, not the real one.

 

 

            “BWAAAUUUGGGHHH!” Cliff and Liam turned from their fight with the now-dead French fools to see the towering presence of Pete standing before them. Saliva sprayed from his gnashing teeth, a look of hollow rage encapsulated in his eyes.

            “A coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero dies just one!” Liam yelled. The cliche didn’t affect him at all. Pete charged like a bull, lowering his head and driving it in to the sternum of the Lummer, propelling him backwards until his back met with the trunk of a tree. Cliff soon followed, although he took a higher trajectory and landed in the leafless branches above.

            “Cliches can’t work on someone too stupid to comprehend them, Lum.” Cliff told his friend, rubbing his bruised chest. The sternum shot launched against him had resulted in a snare-drum-like snapping sound.

            “Well, what else can we do? Obviously, mere hands and feet cannot accomplish anything versus the greatest football product in Beaumont’s illustrious pigskin history!” Liam shouted. Things appeared dire indeed, as the two got themselves back on their feet, and Pete began snorting and drooling, signaling another charge was impending. But Pete was beaten to the punch, as the two were driven back down to the ground by shovels dropped from above. As both once more stood and shook away the double vision they were now afflicted with, they looked up to see Kyle and Erron flying overhead.

            “I TOLD you to shout heads up! EVERYONE known that!” Erron shouted at her husband, who pulled the reins of their giant mosquito steed to bring it to a halt.

            “Thought you guys could use some help!” Kyle yelled, then headed off again with such a jolting motion that Erron nearly fell off the back end.

            “Dammit, Ky, I told you LAST time, you have to warn me!”

            “Ohhhh yeah, it’s shovel beatin’ time!” Liam shouted with a lot of relish as he and Cliff picked up the spades, then clanged the heads together symbolically.

            “Uhhhh...man...this is hard.” Liam remarked as he took another wild swing that missed.

            “Dammit, man, I TOLD you...I TOLD you we needed to practice! Fuck!”

            “Well...shit, he’s gonna charge! I can’t hit him!” Liam shrieked, then accidentally lost his grip on his weapon. It flew from his hands in to a nearby bush.

            “Don’t worry, he ain’t goin’ NOWHERE!” Cliff yelled, then swung the shovel across and smacked Pete hard on the shin. As he roared and began to hop up and down on the other leg, Cliff escorted Liam over to pick up his own weapon.

            “Nice shot, but couldn’t you have gone for his head?” Liam asked.

            “Hey, the only practice I got was against little people, okay? My aim’s a bit off! At least I can HIT the fuckin’ guy!”

 

 

            “So, James, we meet again.” Claire cackled as she strode toward him. Walking step-for-step with her was Alana, whose very footsteps resulted in the thunderous shaking of the Earth itself.

            “Claire...nice to see you...die!” James shouted, then charged his enemy, fist raised. He was about to land his first blow, when Alana raised a meaty leg, then stomped it back down to the ground. The ground shook so hard, James was knocked off of his feet, and nearly fell in to the fissure which had extended outward from Alana’s mighty step. He managed to grab on to the lip of the chasm, and now hung there, dangling from the edge, a precipitous drop awaiting him if he were to let go.

            “No, it shall be you who perishes here, James.” Claire laughed as she knelt over him, bending down to deliver the hideous ‘kiss of death’.

            “Nooooooooooo!” Atti shouted as he jumped from somewhere off to the side, delivering a powerful jumping side kick which sent Claire reeling, toppling over the edge and on her way straight down to Hell.

            “Thanks, man.” James told Atti as he was helped up to his feet.

            “Not so FAST, little men!” Alana mumbled through sagging, massive lips. As she laughed, her entire form seemed to quiver fatfully, looking as though it may never cease.

            “What’s wrong, Alana, can’t find Dallas?” Atti asked her.

            “You...YOU...don’t you DARE speak of him, Atti!” she warned.

            “Oh, but Alana, I’m sure you’d much rather run off and be with him, right?” he continued.

            “ATTI! This is your last WARNING! One more quip like that, and I’ll crush you beneath the weight of my body!”

            “Hmmm...that sounds more like a warning Dallas would need to heed, eh? EH?”

            “THAT IS IT!” she bellowed, rage and several chunks of hamburger that had been lodged between her teeth flying from her mouth. She prepared to jump.

            “Shit, Atti, couldn’t you back off just THIS time?” James asked. Then he saw what Atti had seen, what Atti had been distracting Alana from noticing.

            “Start suckin’, baby!” Kyle shouted as the massive mosquito dug it’s tube-like mouth in to the flab of Alana’s back. As she wailed, it began to feed, dragging one serving after another of greasy, white fat tissue up it’s ‘beak’.

            “No...NO! Cannot...must not...NO!” Alana squealed, growing gradually weaker. Things were going well, when suddenly the insect withdrew it’s feeder, and collapsed to the ground, clutching it’s chest with it’s legs.

            “Good lord, feeding on Alana’s blood gave the poor bastard a coronary in mere seconds!” Kyle exclaimed. He’d never seen anything like it. Of course, most of his experiments had called for putting mosquitoes on puree, rather than giving them angina.

            “Hahahaha...I cannot be defeated! Now, you shall PAY!” Alana roared, then began stomping back towards Atti and James. A fight ensued, but her meaty limbs hit like two by fours, sending her opponents flying.

            “There can only be one!” Erron yelled, then ran towards Alana, determined to become the group’s Alpha female within storyland’s domain. Alana turned to meet her attack, and the fight began anew.

 

 

            “Fuck...it’s over.” Cliff wheezed as he collapsed to the ground. He and Liam lay prone. Before them, a massive pile of chopped meat sat. It had been Pete.

            “Well, maybe if you could have taken off bigger pieces...” Liam began.

            “Hey! I TOLD you, I’m only good against the short! Sure, starting at the foot and hacking off bits all the way up until there was nothing left wasn’t exactly CONVENIENT, but we WON, didn’t we?” Cliff asked. Liam couldn’t help but agree. Slowly, the battle-weary, and blood soaked, warriors rose, and joined their comrades.

 

 

            “I am the one! I am the victor! Anoint me with my spoils!” Erron shouted in to the air as she held Alana’s head aloft. A dark cloudbank roiled above her, then opened directly overtop, a shaft of light engulfing her form as she levitated off the ground.

            “You have won...and shall receive your gift!” a voice boomed, “As the Alpha female of the group, you shall be anointed with the greatest gift of all for a woman...you shall be granted...reason!” and it was done.

 

 

            “Everyone okay?” Chad asked as he joined the group.

            “Yeah, how about you?” Cliff asked him.

            “Doin’ pretty damn good. Frankly, I’d like to keep punching Michelle, but there’s literally nothing of substance left.”

            “Well, really, what was there to BEGIN with!” Liam roared.

            “Kyle, I just wish you’d stop spending so much time with the bugs at work, and spend more time with me.” Erron told him as they reached the others.

            “Wait...aren’t you going to continually tell me everything’s fine, while HINTING that it’s not? Maybe tell me you don’t mind if I spend some extra time at work, yet hit me with one guilt trip after another once I return home? No woman doublespeak?” Kyle asked, a little unsure of what was going on.

            “Now, honey, where the Hell would the sense be in that? I’m just being forthright and honest from the very beginning. Hee...silly man.” Erron replied. Truly, she had been blessed with the gift. (Author’s note : I’d just like to point out that I hardly mean this to be a scathing attack on Erron alone. NO women make sense or get to the point.)

            “Hey, where’s Kelly?” Atti asked.

            “Hmmm...he must still be in there. I saw him run in after Evil Kelly before I was set upon by the gruesome twosome.” James told them, pointing to a small concrete structure across the field. Everyone headed towards it.

 

 

                                                A FEW MINUTES LATER

 

 

            “My GOD!” Atti whispered as they entered the building and witnessed the combat taking place within.

            “Okay, I’m taking a called shot for your head.” Kelly told Evil Kelly.

            “Okay, uhhh...let’s see...you need to roll a...five.” Evil Kelly told him after consulting a chart. Kelly rolled his die, which ended up showing four.

            “HAHA! Called head shot...that’s GOTTA be worth something good!” Kelly shouted with glee as he picked up a sword from the floor.

            “Actually, according to the rules...no, it really doesn’t give you anything special.” Evil Kelly told him.

            “WHAT? Lemme see that!” Kelly yelled, grabbing the rule book and checking, only to find that Evil Kelly was right, “But that’s stupid!”

            “Hey, this isn’t MY game, now, is it? Jeez, and you call ME evil! Okay, well, let’s get on with it, okay?” Evil Kelly asked. Kelly tossed the book down and shook his head with disgust, then swung and made contact with Evil Kelly, slicing him across the cheek.

            “OW! Oh...THAT’S gonna leave a mark. Nice shot.”

            “Hey, thanks. Okay, uhhh...let’s see...since I started with an attack from behind, I get to roll for initiative again.” Kelly told his counterpart.

            “SHIT! I should have known I’d pay for fleeing in the beginning. Oh well, roll.”

            “Kelly! Just KILL him!” Liam yelled, then began making his way towards them.

            “HALT! Take ONE MORE STEP, and pay the price!” Evil Kelly growled, pointing a withered finger directly at Liam’s abdomen.

            “Lum, this is my fight, I got this, okay?” Kelly told his friend.

            “Well...okay. I’ll just...turn around and rejoin everyone else, then...you know...not do anything at all...EXCEPT STRIKE! AAAAHHHHHHH!” Liam yelled, then wheeled back towards Evil Kelly and charged. Unfortunately, nobody had been fooled by Lum’s attempts to seem innocent, and Evil Kelly struck. A bolt of energy was loosed from his hand, and blasted in to Liam’s mouth. He was staggered backwards, where he was steadied by friends, and brought back to rejoin the rest of them.

            “HAHA! you may have defeated Liam, but now I get an extra attack because YOU were DISTRACTED.” Kelly remarked.

            “Awwwww FUCK!” Evil Kelly despaired as Kelly rolled the dice once more.

 

 

                                                SEVERAL MINUTES LATER

 

 

            “So, you finally...win...” Evil Kelly gasped to his alter ego as he fell to the ground. Kelly watched him drop, still holding the now bloodied blade that had been driven through his nemesis. Those critical hits are a real bitch. “You...have defeated me and my army. For that...you are to be congratulated. But do not think you...” Evil Kelly could no longer continue, as he died. Kelly looked down upon him, now the victor, then also collapsed, having suffered some rather nasty wounds to himself during a period of poor rolling. Everyone else ran to him, and carried him off to receive medical attention.

 

 

                                                DAYS LATER

 

 

            “So, we’ve won again.” Cliff remarked to his friends.

            “It seems that way.” Atti said.

            “So, uhhh...what do we do now?” Chad asked. Nobody seemed to know, and simply stared at their cups of coffee, except Liam, who again clutched his abdomen as the pain shot through it.

            “God, I gotta go take a shit, man.” he grumbled, then stumbled off to the bathroom, muttering to himself once again about how he hated shitting anywhere but at home as he sat. This time felt different, though, this time WAS different. Yet everything seemed to go as it always did. As he finished, though, he could have sworn he felt someone knocking on his ass...

            “What the FUCK!” Liam shouted, then jumped up and turned to see...”Wow! Freddie Prinze Jr.! What are you doing in there?!”

            “Hey, Liam...woah...mind covering up?” Freddie implored. Liam blushed sheepishly and pulled up his pants.

            “I don’t understand, how did you...”

            “It’s how I travel, Liam. See, I’m no so much of an actor as I am an airborne pathogen!” Freddie explained, “You were cursed by Evil Kelly to be stricken with a case of the Prinze.”

            “So...what now?”

            “Well, now you have to care for my every whim. First off, I need a few liters of hair gel...”

 

           

            “Did you see? They’re out there again.” A voice spoke out from the darkness behind Denny’s.

            “Yes...yes...I SAW. How they lived through everything they were put through I will NEVER know...” a second voice spat bitterly.

            “You said it was foolproof...you said it would work.”

            “Silence! If it weren’t for the Author and those meddlesome gnomes, the whole lot would be DEAD now!”

            “So, is that it, then? We go back to normal?” Carmen asked as she stepped back in to the light, “Do I spend the rest of my life SERVING those IDIOTS?!”

            “Yes...you and the others will serve them...for NOW...while I cook up another plan. And this time...oh...this time...nothing will stop us. They will be...DESTROYED!” Denny told her. She answered with a double tap to his head from the barrel of the silenced automatic she had pulled from her pocket.

            “You had your chance, Denny. It’s someone else’s turn to have a crack at defeating the group.” Carmen whispered to the corpse at her feet, then steeled herself to go back inside and deal with their insolence once more. But not for long, she told herself, not for long...

 

           

            “Congratulations, Kelly, you and your friends have successfully completed your quest.” Hazabas said as Kelly returned to the now all-too-familiar meadow.

            “And thus, you have saved the world. Good show, good show indeed.” Galein added.

            “Well, thanks guys. I guess we just wanted it a little bit more than they did. We were giving a hundred and ten percent out there. We redoubled our efforts and stood fast when we had to, then attacked when given the opportunities.” Kelly told them.

            “Yes...quite. Well, anyway, we just wanted to congratulate you with a job well done.” Hazabas added.

            “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

            “And, we wish to honor you with this talisman...it acknowledges your admittance in to the High Order of Gnomes. Your praises will be sung for thousands of millennia once you don this medallion.” Galein told Kelly as he handed him his medal. Kelly appeared humbled, and slipped it around his neck.

            “Thank you...thank you both. And I have something for you as well.” he told them. Both gnomes looked at him, joy lighting their tiny faces, for they had not expected such giftery from the man. They watched as Kelly reached down and unzipped the duffel bag at his feet, and retrieved...

            “A...shovel?” Hazabas asked.

            “Well...thank you, human Kelly, but this...this shovel is far too large to be of any use to us...” Galein told him.

            “No, I think you’re wrong, I think it’s juuuuust right.” Kelly told them, then, quick as a cat hepped up on goofballs, he struck, knocking both of them in to unconsciousness with two quick blows. “Fuckin’ gnomes...I’ll put you bastards in your place...” he muttered as he threw them and the shovel in to the duffel, and headed off to the kiln, having returned to the normal world as soon as they were brained. Soon, they would decorate his garden. He tossed the medal to the ground, not willing to absorb countless attacks from his fellow Wal-Mart employees for going over to ‘The Gnome Side’.

 

 

            “Hey, I’m home.” Cliff announced as he walked in to the front door of his home. His mom was at work, but his dad rose slowly from his chair, almost looking like he was in a state of shock.

            “M’boy...you’re alive!”

            “Of course I’m alive, dad. Geez.”

            “But...but this Author boy came around and told us you were dead!”

            “What? That insidious...umm...you know...you don’t seem to be grieving much.”

            “Huh? Oh, well, we suffered through the normal grieving period. But we had to move on with our lives at some point. And, you know, the Packers are on TV.”

            “Oh. That’s cool then. Say, what’s the score, dad?” Cliff asked as he sat himself on the couch.

            “17-10.”

            “Wow...good to be back, dad.” Cliff told his father, who turned towards him with a warm smile on his face.

            “What it is, son...what it is.” he whispered as he rose his fist in a sort of black power salute, then turned back to the television. “Yo diggity, touchdown!”

 

           

            “Man, nobody’s home...I’ll have to fend for myself...” Liam muttered to nobody in particular, then headed over to the fridge. “Damn! No premade sandwiches?! I’m gonna fuckin’ die.” Just then, he heard the unmistakable sounds of a big rig pulling up out front. A minute later, his brother wandered in the front door.

            “And IIIIIIIIiiiiIIIIIII will alllways love youuuuuuwooooOOOOHHHHH will always loooooooovvvee...shit, Liam, what the fuck are you doing here?! I thought I was alone...” Shaun yelled, his ‘Whitney Houston’ reverie broken, and a blush covering his face rapidly.

            “Just got back from my mission...nice work there, Shaun’o...” Liam snickered.

            “Shut up! I SWEAR, man, you tell ANYONE about this, and I’ll dig out that old pellet gun and shoot your ass again, dig? Good...now, I’m going to my room.” A minute later, another truck pulled up outside. Liam walked out the front door, knowing it would be his dad. A familiar sounding song was cranking out of the cab.

            “Ya’ down with O.P.P...”

            “Yeah, you know me!” Liam’s dad shouted enthusiastically, finishing off the rhyme. Then, he saw his son watching him. “Liam! Damn, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. But hey, I’m just glad to see ya’, son.”

            “Thanks dad. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Liam asked.

            “Sure has, son. But you’re back now, and everything’s okay. Oh, get that gravy I asked for?”

            “FUCK!” Liam shouted.

 

 

            Everyone else left alive also returned home, but the Author was unable to come up with any amusing anecdotes involving them and their families as there weren’t any. So, yeah, that about does it. Also left on the cutting room floor was an amusing little side bit where Shaun Guthrie and Jean Chretien changed places. There just wasn’t a good spot to use it.

 

                       

 

...You’d Have Thought the Second Guy Would Have Seen It.

          Also known as...

 

                                                The End

 

 

 

            Well, once more, an epic has come to a close. And hey, I went a whole story with nobody being raped by wild animals! This time I left it open ended, because every other story seemed to end with me claiming I’d never write another. Then, what do I find myself doing a few months or years later? Wasting countless weeks and months on another of these trivial babblings! So I’m going the reverse psychology route, here...if I leave the end open for a sequel, maybe I WON’T write another...ha HA! Ah, who the fuck knows? Obviously not me.

 

            Anyway, as is traditional, I must close this off with another list of thank yous, to every one and thing who aided in ANY way the production of this story. So, thank you to : Xzibit, Moby, Orbital, DMX, Deftones, Linkin Park, BB King, Lenny Kravitz, P.O.D., Type O Negative, Frank Sinatra, Late night movies on TBS that are so bad they were too low for direct-to-video, Late night TSN ‘sports’ spectacles like spelling bees and poker championships, Spiderman (the original, which has recently made a glorious return on Teletoon), Buffy the Vampire slayer (which Space has just started showing in it’s entirety from episode one onward), The Sopranos, The Last Word, The Buzz, The Mr. Hell Show, Dennis Miller Live, professional wrestling, peanut butter, root beer, Pepsi and orange slurpees, Pepsi and Code Red Mountain Dew slurpees, late night wanderings amongst the underage drunks of Leduc, X-Com, Jagged Alliance : Deadly Games, Empire Deluxe, The glorious return of NFL football, Maxim, FHM, Pro Football Weekly, The first three books of the Wheel of Time series (Though I must say they were all fairly repetitive and I can’t say I consider them nearly as Godly as most of my friends seem to. Hopefully they get better), The 10th Kingdom (Which was a thoroughly enjoyable miniseries.), too many movies (cheezy and otherwise) to mention, A whole lot of other crap I’m forgetting, Denny’s, All of the employees at Denny’s for never trying to kill us during one of our regular and epic coffee nights. And of course, everyone who was there for the birth of most of the ideas in this story. Oftentimes they didn’t KNOW it, since I just jotted it down and said nothing, but they were there nonetheless! So, thank you : Tim, Liam, James, Kelly, Chad, Monique, Sam, Dave, Kyle, Erron, Atti, Jodi, Shaun, Tracy, and everyone else. Oh, and also a big thank you to my future wife, Jennifer Love Hewitt. (what can I say, I wanna end up in a tabloid! Come on, National Enquirer...believe it...please, believe it...I wanna see myself on the cover! Of course, they’ve probably read this part, too...SHIT! Foiled by myself!) Anyway, that’s about everything, and I tire of typing, so I’m bringin’ this bitch in to dock for the last time.