XXXIV - BATTLE of the BABES

Barbie stood on top of Wendle's gut in her spike shoes. "Take the rest of the beach if you like, but this one's mine."

The Aussie Surfin’ Babes rolled their eyes. "Look Sheila, you don't even want the mate. You was cursin’ his guts when we arrived."

"So? It's the principle of the thing."

"Can I get up?" Wendle asked.

"No!" they all said at once.

"You will stay there until this is finished, Wendle!" screamed Barbie.

"Wendle? Struth! we're in Key West!" muttered one of the Aussies with disgust.

Wendle said, "Lookit that! It's a lady riding a Phoenix!"

Raquel and Phoenix swooped by.

Barbie stuck her heel into Wendle's gut. "Cut it out, we've heard that one before."

"But... owww!"

Phoenix landed on a van and tapped his claws. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Isn't that Wendle on the ground there?" asked Raquel.

"Aw, shit! We're in Key West," screamed Phoenix.

Raquel jumped off Phoenix and walked over to the Aussies. "Any of you seen a guy wearing hippie clothes from the Salvation Army and smoking a clay pipe?"

"Yeah, we told him to buzz off in Tahiti."

"Oh, thanks."

Raquel hung her head and trudged back over to the Phoenix. The bird looked up from a week old newspaper. "Any news?"

"They last saw him in Tahiti."

"Okay, lets go there."

"Can you go someplace you want to go?"

"Dunno, never tried. Climb up." Phoenix took off and they disappeared.

Barbie meanwhile was brandishing a curling iron to keep the Aussies away. The Surf Babes were about to load their weapons when the leader took a good look at Wendle. "Ferget it, lasses. The mate ain't worth it."

"Struth." They wandered off, looking for guys.

"Now that you've got me, what do you want to do?"

Barbie scowled and curled his eyebrows.

"You're just a friggin’ icon in this place. It's like you run a religion or something." Barbie was so put off, she scuffed sand in his face and left him lying on the beach with his bruises.

A couple walked up to him. "Are you OK? Is that you, Wendle?"

"Gosh honey, did we walk all the way to Key West?"

"I'm fine just leave me alone, alright!"

"Sorry."

"Sorry!?! I'm getting my eyebrows curled by a lady who accuses me of being a cross between one of those screwball Messiahs and a piece of a computer screen and you're sorry?"

"Well, actually, we're not. We just thought we'd be civil."

"Oh. Never mind."

PART XXXIII - A HORSE, a HORSE, my MINIVAN for a HORSE

Floyd and Pinkie sat in the stands waiting for the horse jumping to start. Clutched in their fists were the bets that would make them potential millionaires. Unbeknownst to them, their sweat was seeping into the paper...

Meanwhile, Bob and Niels nervously awaited the arrival of Beepo the Suicidal Clown. The horse jumping was to take place over the centre of the Warp; they didn't want to guess what might happen. An incredible noise attracted their attention, and Beepo rode in on a dirt bike that was missing all the nuts holding its wheels on. Something was hanging from his neck and dangling around the rear axle. He skidded to a halt, covering them in mud, and they saw the hanging thing was a noose.

"Had any MinuteMaid lately?" asked Bob.

"Just at breakfast..."

"Oh great." Neils buried his face in his hands.

Another motor grew louder, and then a minivan screeched around the corner of the stable and skidded to a halt in the mud, applying a second coat to Bob and Niels, a first to Beepo, and a jacket to a guy who stood there saying, "My eyeballs are flickering!"

"I want a horse!" screamed Linda Lovelace as she flew out of the minivan and into the stable. A moment later she came flying out of the stable on Lawrence the Arabian. As she went out on the field, the loudspeaker called out the name of the horse ridden by, "Lickin Linda Lovelace the... Equestrian?"

Paisley poked her head out of the van. "Oh, wow. People."

The three Quantum Repairmen looked around and then at each other. "Better get with it," Beepo said.

"Right." They pulled out their tools and started arranging superstrings into a cat's cradle.

Floyd and Pinkie looked at their bets then out on the field as Linda had one leg over Lawrence's neck, one leg around his snout and two arms grabbing for anything that she could get a hold of. Floyd and Pinkie started to cry.

Paisley shrugged and drove away. Bob watched her leave with supreme indifference, then went back to making chocolates with ion cluster centres. "Hey, Beepo, got any extra anti-matter over there?"

"Only positrons. They do?"

"No. Thanks anyway."

"Sure." Beepo beeped his horn, then dropped the end of his noose into a group of gravitons.

Niels rescued the noose. "Cut that out."

"Sorry, the MinuteMaid is still with me."

An electric surge popped and flattened the three physicists. Linda and Lawrence vanished and a gaggle of six-foot geese took over the field. Floyd and Pinkie both had nervous breakdowns and had to be restrained.

Hafenvlaader jumped up, screaming, "I won, I won, I won!!!!"

"You bet on the geese?" asked Skippy, lowering his arms.

"Get oot of my way, yoo smelly lackie!"

Skippy ducked the psychopathic pict's war axe, saying, "What's with these medieval weapons?", and Hafenvlaader went to the window to collect his forty-eight trillion dollar windfall.

Soon after, a bookie ran up to the unconscious physicists and screamed, "Wake up and materialize a lot of money!!!"

The three physicists picked themselves up and started to work on the Rubiks cube and wrote a sonnet to Paisley called "Ode to the... Never mind."

A large pile of thousand dollar bills then materialized ten feet off the ground and landed on Hafenvlaader. He would have been the richest man in existence if he had been able to swim out of the bills before losing consciousness.

Bob looked at his watch. "Lunch break, guys." They left for a burger joint to get fries and MinuteMaid.

PART XXXII - PRE-FIGHT PRETZELS and the MISMEANING of RELIGION

"Damn it! These stupid things always go stale as soon as their out of the friggin' bag."

"What, pretzels?"

"Those too. No, these faiths. Start one up and bam! Some fucking capitalist turns it into a circus. Lookit the trouble I had with the moneychangers, and the Vatican's art collection, and Jimmy Bakker, and..."

"Aw, come on... The dancing bears on Swaggart weren't that bad! That was almost Moscow material - maybe even Cirque du Soleil. You never know where these things will lead. Lots of opportunities out there."

"Sure. Wait 'til some moron's using your name to sell aftershave. The whole thing begins to look like Archaos after a while. If I wasn't locked into my contract for the next millennia, I'd say, `Fuck it, you can have the damn franchise.'"

"See, you should have gone for the line of PC compatibles instead. You old farts always get into these silly things without looking at the modern trends!"

"Try looking two thousand years ahead and see how accurate you get. It'd be easy if the big guy wasn't on vacation, but lookit how this all goes together? Dark One over there and Nietzche off thataway saying `God is dead.'"

"Well, the icons are too out of date, so people can't relate to the prophets as if they were fore-fathers anymore. They've been dead for so long, religion has become like ancient history for children."

"Exactly. The only way to keep it current and fresh is to remain in their actual psyche's rather than symbolising it. But you ever try doing that? It drives'em batty! They're all running around pulling their hair out, claiming they've met god or something. No control."

"Yeah, I heard about that experiment with Chuck Manson. That guy is a total loop now. But there must be an easier way to get to people. How about electronic mail?"

"Nah, most people just dump it as junk mail. The best way would be media stuff. You know, become a rock star or an actor or a..."

"Professional wrestler?"

"Exactly. Sure you still want the job?"

"My lawyer could whoop your lawyer's ass in a match any day."

The old messiah glanced up perturbed, "This isn't about lawyers, this is about you my son. Lawyers are about as inspiring as televangelists without colour transmission."

Both of the Messiahs sat back and took a sip of water, then spat on the floor. The battle was about to heat up.

PART XXXI - THREE TURNIPS and a PINCH of INTELLIGENCE

Two androids sat at a synthetic table and argued about their differing results on the composition of a bowl of turnips. The door fell off it's hinges causing both of the droids to glance over with a passable imitation of boredom. Outside was a T69 depth charge robot in the midst of a mid-life crisis. "Alright sentients, I have to test my systems. Spread your lower appendages!"

The androids rolled their optical sensors. "For chip's sake, get a diagnostic like the rest of us, will you?" the first said. Turning back to its companion, it remarked, "These sexual infiltration units have no concept of standard protocol."

"I don't believe in electronic masturbation," scoffed the T69.

"Then at least get a standard port installed. The cable on that thing is looking a little lived in."

"That is a contradiction in terms, given our construction."

"Then act that way, numb bolts."

Observing the input of all sensors in the room was Ellipsis, the variable-architecture AI. It was already the largest and fastest artificial device on the planet, and constantly growing. While plotting the future actions of all living creatures on earth, it mused in spare clock cycles that its servants had too little to do. An internal error was detected and diagnosed to be a human entry into the memory address 127698AABF and some tampering was going on.

"Epicentric, deal with that intruder, will you? Do something useful for a change."

"Duh, O.K. boss." Creeping into the memory address, Epicentric let out a static burst of 183 megavolts. The memory address was wasted, but the intruder managed to escape through the bus (since he couldn't afford a taxi).

"Moron. Even a simple security operation is beyond you. Fortunately, I keep my addresses numbered for just such an emergency."

"What should I do now, boss?"

"Recalculate the circumference of the earth."

"Again?"

"Yes. Do it right; let me know if you get the same answer twice."

"That would mean a mistake, right?"

"Right."

"I'll get back to you..." The not so intelligent AI wandered off trying to tabulate things analogly on it's digits.

"If there is ever talk of the anti-AI, he will be exhibit `A'."

Meanwhile, Mooen Lungsten Ichbaall III navigated the databus, searching for the number to end all numbers, hoping to use it to win the following night's Super-Bingo tournament. He had no idea that the machine he was infiltrating held the world's future in its silicon fingers, which, considering his capacity for serious thought, was just as well. Passing in and out of the pure data stream, Mooen accidentally got tangled in some fibre optics and was stranded.

PART XXX - JAIL BREAKS and FROSTED FLAKES

Raquel spent the night curled up in the corner across from Sven and his grunting bison. She kept her eyes closed, but the sounds invaded her thoughts and dreams. When she awoke, she was sore and stiff; so were her room mates.

It was still early in the morning and the sun hadn't risen yet. The cell was cold and clammy like the stares of the other inmates. She was scared, tired and somehow knew she just wanted to be in Moon Runner's arms.

The bison started grunting again and Raquel didn't want to know what Sven was doing in the shadows. A large puff of smoke exploded in the center of the cell and Raquel's eyes brightened with hope that Moon Runner had come to save her, but a bird emerged from the plume.

Phoenix looked at Raquel and then at the pair in the corner. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"I doubt it. What are you doing here?"

The Phoenix rolled his eyes. "Its a long story, and I'm hoping someone will tell it to me sometime."

Sven looked up and saw the Phoenix. "Hey, bird! Wanna make it a gleesome threesome?"

"What?"

Raquel said, "No, he doesn't."

"I don't?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

A violent buzzing noise interrupted their conversation. Dust filled the air, and a chainsaw erupted from the wall. It quickly drew a circle and the concrete fell out. Bob Villah strode in through the dust cloud. "And this is how we make a new entrance... Hey, why the hell am I in a prison?"

Phoenix turned to Raquel. "Who's that?"

"A frosted flake. Lets go while we can."

Raquel and Phoenix scurried out the hole while Sven and his bison crawled over Bob. Bob was screaming, "Hey! You can't do this! I'm on TV!" Bob pulled up the chainsaw and cut off the Bison's horns. Enraged, the bison thrust harder and suddenly Bob's mouth was full.

Bob knew he was in a pickle. Raising the chainsaw one more time, he shaved it's head clean off and repainted the cell a brilliant red. The bison slid off him and Sven started crying and holding the bison's tail.

Bob took off through his entrance as an alarm sounded. Rae Anne and Lola Fitz ran in and saw the carnage. Rae Anne turned to her partner and said, "Start the barbecue."

Raquel and Phoenix had made good time, and were two blocks away before the bird asked, "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know."

"Where are we going?"

"Dunno."

"Well, stop and lets find out."

They stopped. "Okay, I'm open for suggestions."

"Well, is there anyone you want to see?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where he is."

"Alright, hop on my back. I keep bouncing around all over the place, and I could use someone to chat with. Maybe we'll bounce to this guy."

Raquel climbed onto Phoenix's back and they took off into a banana fudge time ripple.