PART XII - Love at First Sight... But Where'd He Go?

Raquel looked out her window at the rain and sighed. Her dark red hair cascaded down her shoulders as she watched water fall, fall, fall like her spirits. It was an empty world she saw. All intellect, with no passion, no soul, no raison d'etre.
Her analyst said she needed to get laid. He had a predatory light in his eye when he said it; she stopped seeing him, and blocked him off her phone. Now she had no one to talk to in this city, this dirty crush of humanity with no humanity.
She had robbed herself of the only link to society she had. Now the self-pity started to tear at her thoughts. She was hopeless. A social misrepresentation of a human being. The crush of depression bore down on her like a physical weight, like millions of years of sediment slowly crushing the bones of her psyche to oblivion.
A fizzle sounded behind her, and she smelled smoke of a pungent, sweet odour. Turning around, she saw an American Indian dressed in flowered shirt and ornate beads, and a tall thin man carrying a book of sheet music. They were smoking out of a small clay pipe.
Raquel jumped up and backed to the wall. "Who... who are you?"
"Pardon us ma'am," said the Music Man. "We're just trying to escape inter-cosmic evil. Uhh, where's your back door?"
The Indian was looking into her eyes. They were the deepest eyes she had ever seen, misted inside and out.
Music Man pulled on his friend's arm. "We're in a hurry, Moon Runner. Let's get outta here before someone tries to kill us again, I need another drink, and give me that damn pipe."
They were gone. She ran after them, but they had disappeared. She dropped to her knees. "Gone..."

PART XI – The Dark One Snickers

"Soon, it will all be mine, now that that pesky Queen is out of the way. Now, where did that medicine man get to?.."

Looking on the world, the Dark One received a shock. The Phoenix had arisen, young and renewed.

"Of all the rotten... That feather brain is back!! The prophecy bodes ill in this matter..."

Then he spied Moon and Music on the Plains of Abraham, obstructing a re-enactment of the historic battle. Pounding his fist on the table, they appeared in front of him and fell to the floor from their previously useful positions.

Moon Runner looked up. "Oh shit. Music Man, we're in trouble."

"Why? Who's dat dude?"

"I am the Dark One. At last, I have you, Hendrix. No more power chords for you, you drugged out hippie!"

"There's got to be some kinda way outta here..."

"I know that tune," Music Man said.

"Yes," said the Dark One. "And it isn't even his own. He borrowed it from Dylan."

"Yes, but it's remembered as mine... I think..."

"Not for long." The Dark One snickered, an iridescently radiant snicker.

A door flung open and in jumped - the Secret Assassin! He strode across the room, plopped a subpoena on the Dark One's Desk, and disappeared as quick as he arrived.

"Damn he's quick. What the hell is this nonsense?"

"Your calling?" quipped Moon Runner.

"Sued for libel... SMALL CLAIMS COURT! Who's the barrister... SKIPPY!! Why I'll..."

Music Man whispered, "Let's kiss that sky again, shall we?"

"As you say Kimo-Sabe." They vanished. Somewhere, a computer tabulator kept track of this.

"... A billion torments shall be his... Now where did they go?"

Part X - Leagues of Practically Useless Information

Sheckkie Leibowitz stared at Rorschach's Inkblots, and his mind swam in the sea of dreams. This irritated the Inkblots to no end.

"Yo, snap out of it, dude!"

"Wha, wha? Oh, sorry. What were you guys up to?"

"Other than listening to you quote Faust, not a whole heap. Now snap out of it will ya!"

"Faust?"

"Yeah, you know, the play? Skip it. Seriously, you gotta meet this chick, she's perfect for you..."

"Oi vay, you sound like my Grandmother. So what's her name?"

"Yopu the Seriously Underrated."

"She sounds under age too."

"Funny, that's what the red wood tree said, too. But look, you want a good evening, this girl is it! Personality? She's got nine of them."

"Nine?!"

"Yeah," said one of the other Inkblots. "She keeps eight of them in a jar of cherry juice."

"Sounds like a sticky situation."

"Only if you're an animal tamer."

"Does she put out?"

"What are we describing here, a person or an automatic teller machine - of course she puts out!"

"So, she's not Jewish then?"

"Sure, I think number six is."

"Three and four are ancient Sumerian," said the third Inkblot.

"And Number Nine is a Red Daemon Cultist. Seriously, it's a wild evening."

"Just spectating would be," said Sheckkie. "So, why's she underrated?"

"Y'see, the thing is, she's been set up with all the wrong guys so far. First there was this old fart named Zeke..."

"Couldn't understand why she didn't want to stay in a mineshaft," explained the fourth Inkblot.

"... Then there was this Anaconda..."

"She just doesn't like it when people put the squeeze on her."

"... The Nameless One..."

"She figured if he wouldn't tell her his name, he wasn't likely to commit."

"Besides, she was using her Thomas More personality at the time - too much religion and stuff in the way," put in number two Inkblot.

"Okay," said Sheckkie, "she's had bad luck. What's she look like?"

"What do you want her to look like?"

"Huh?"

"She's a shape shifter."

"Huh?!?"

"I told you she was underrated..."

Part IX - Another Imperial Interlude from the Supremes

"We're goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get stoned..."

"You hiding weed or something, man?"

"Hmm, Maybe... Maybe not."

"An' what's with the chapel shit? You get religion or what?"

"Nah, it was a Supremes thing..."

"Sure. Whatever."

"... The rococo design of the Hallelujah Chorus is what allowed it to continue in appreciation, especially when considered in light of the later interpretation by the Beef Farmers Association of San Marino ..."

Thank you, Nigel Lamebrain.

"... And we are just now discovering - through scientific methods of course - that there seems to be a very toxic substance that accumulates within various types of fabric and can cause certain mental "highs" in humans. We are hoping that this research won't be released to the public as it may cause widespread human self-infliction of stitches and embroidery of the skin..."

Sacman was listening.

"... Technically, we're not sure where Sturmgosse might be; he could be behind that wall, for all we know. The house defies all efforts to map, or even understand, its passages and layout. For example, it seems to be possible to reach geographically remote areas through certain broom closets and whatnot. Such being the case, it is impossible to ascertain what has happened to mister Smith. Therefore, we are forced to move that Sturmgosse Smith be declared legally dead and..."

Roger Harpell received a letter.

"... I don't know what made me do it! I was just out in the field one day and I found myself staring at it. It was so perfect! Nobody else could understand, but the tail wagged and I just fell in love with it on the spot. I had to have it..."

Geraldo cut to a commercial.

"... It does not compute. It never will compute. That's the whole idea, you moron! It's supposed to tie the micro-processors up in knots..."

The makers would have sued for libel, but they never knew what hit them.

"Thousands of lives are shattered every moment, with no hope of ever finding the pieces, and no one really cares anymore. It's just too big. If it was just a village, we would care, but it's not, it's billions of people, mind boggling really, and it deadens the emotions until some of us wonder if we still have any. The odds are enormous, and no one cares to bet. So don't blame me, it's not my fault."

And the shrink took notes while feasting his eyes on the stretch of thigh.

"My god Steve... You recorded this on VHS... What were you thinking man??? What if this thing fell into the wrong hands??? How many times do I have to tell you!?! Don't quote Faust while under the influence of ludes!!!"

ISO was listening...

"Do you think you have me? In your dreams, pitiful mortal! The key to it all isn't even in this world! So go ahead, destroy my soldiers. All it is, is a temporary set back..."

Kyle ducked and spun, disembowelling a goblin. Battle raged about him as the words of the sorcerer still rung in his ears. Which world?

"Where did that stupid cat go? Roooooooo! where the hell are you? Gads...even in the underworld, you can lose pets and who the hell farted?"

The Dark Lord waved a fan and thousands of fans waved back.

"Y'know, everything would be much easier if I had ultimate power."

CWBorysowich looked puzzled. "I thought you did."

They'd been wandering the desert for days before Wanderer asked, "How come you keep disappearing?"

"I do?" asked Ed.

Here's an easy bet to win. Bet someone you can predict what they will say. Tell them to pick an integer between one and ten (they can't tell you the number). Multiply it by nine, then add the digits. Subtract five. The resultant number corresponds to a letter (a=1, b=2, etc.) Tell them to pick a country whose name starts with that letter. Tell them to pick an animal whose name starts with the second letter of that country name. Then tell them to think of the colour of that animal. The answer should be...

{note your answer for future reference.}

The Casual Observer walked along the main street of a large city that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. He watched the parade of people passing him and observed the contents of store windows he passed. Then he noticed he was being followed. Three androids had been tracking him for several blocks. The casual observer felt a bit more formal. Used to being the voyeur, he was now the hunted. He ducked into an alley. Dead end. He turned.

The androids were around the corner and bearing down on him. The casual observer backed up to the wall and raised his hands in the air. The androids drew silenced automatic weapons.

He dropped to his knees. "No... don't..!"

They opened fire. The bullets cut into his chest. He never saw the androids leave.

The Pheonix appeared in a puff of smoke and looked at the alley and the body of the observer. "What am I doing here?"

Pheonix approached the body as its last string of life slipped away. A computer disk was clutched in the right hand. The eyes opened and looked into the eyes of Pheonix.

"Don't let the machines win..."

The eyes closed and the body exhaled for the last time.

Pheonix took the disk from the hand and disappeared.

What machines?

PART VIII - Moon Running With the Aussie Surfin’ Babes

Music Man held up his hands as a young Aus pointed two big forty fives and a submachine gun at his face. "I won't give you any trouble miss. Unless you want me to."

"Shaddup mate."

Music Man complied.

Moon Runner said, "Excuse me, ladies, but your motives are a purple haze. I am not afraid to die when it is my time, but please, let us live our lives as we want to - without bullets."

"Wot are you, some sixties junkie, buddy-o?"

Moon Runner looked at the speaker and feasted his eyes. "I, fair lady, am a medicine man. If you would care to sample my healing powers..."

"Maybe later, mate. Look, what we want is sex slaves and you two just aren't gonna do! Now be gone or we fill ya with lead, hippie-mate."

Moon flung his arms and the two characters evaporated from the scene.

The surf babe dropped her gun and gasped "Wow! - Cool!"

Little did she know, but she had just given the brush off to Moon Runner Hendrix - the last male on earth that could bring a female to multiple simultaneous congruent parabolic orgasms while rolling a pair of post-coital joints and saving the universe from mutual assured boredom.

"Great, bimbo bitch," one of her companions said, "NOW you notice ‘ee's talented."

"Like I could tell thot before!"

"`E did say `e was a medicine man..."

"Yeah, yeah, no use cryin' over it, is there? C'mon then."

And the surf babes continued their search, becoming more frustrated as they ran into a pack of stranded monks near Egypt, and then a gay men's colony in south America with their own village called JonesyTown. Even so, the surfing babes managed to convert a few of them along the way to slaves for their deviant behaviour, and their coincidental sexual activity. ISO was pleased with the results.