PART XLVI - HARRY'S the HEAD HONCHO...AGAIN

Harry stood in his new hotel on the proper pair of legs and wiped the bar with a moist rag. He stopped and looked around the room. He went outside and looked up and down the parking lot, glancing at all the rooms. He turned and looked at the roadway while little twirls of dust spiraled in the southwesterly winds. There was a problem - no customers. The whole area was completely empty and void of people except for himself. He screamed - it echoed. Harry went back inside the hotel.

"If I ever get my hands on Ed..." Harry pulled out the yellow pages and looked for the AAA. He called, and they said that, yes, he was still in their vacation listings. That wasn't the problem.

"So where the hell are my customers?"

The door burst open and in walked the largest man Harry had ever seen. He looked around and bumped his head on the chandelier.

"Sir! May I help you?"

"What? Oh, yah, I'm looking for... a place to stay."

"Can do. Name?"

"Karl."

"Great. Got a last name?"

"No."

"Then... you're just known as `Karl.'"

"No."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Then... what are you known as?"

"Karl the Kapuskasing Kar Krusher."

"Ah, of course, why didn't I think of that. Those are all spelled with `k's, right?"

"What? Oh, yah."

"I see where you're coming from."

Karl turned around, puzzled. "You can't see Kapuskasing from here, can you?"

"Uh, no, it's a figure of speech."

"Oh. I'm not very good with figures."

"You don't say. Now, how long will you be staying?"

"Uh, until... I leave."

"I see. Well, that'll be forty dollars for the first night. Here's your key."

"What? Oh, yah. Thanks. Where is it?"

"Basement - far corner."

"Ok, thanks."

Karl walked out. Harry stood for a moment. Karl walked back in and hit his head on the chandelier again.

"Where's the basement?"

"You just go out, turn right down the stairs, and it's the last door on the right."

"Oh, ok. Uh..."

"Your right is the hand with the key in it."

"Oh, thanks."

Karl walked out. Harry sat down on a bar stool.

"Great I get one customer and it has to be a moron."

A loud noise of shearing metal echoed from the parking lot. Harry looked up.

"Oh shit!"

Harry ran out of the bar. His brand new V12 Jaguar Sovereign was folded in half and standing upright on it's front and back bumpers simultaneously.

"Why me?!?"

"It was the only car here."

"You little..."

"What?"

Harry looked at Karl, Karl's muscles, and his car, and decided not to push it. He had no interest in purchasing more body parts. "Oh, what the hell. Do you have insurance for this kinda thing?"

"Hey, I'm the Kapuskasing Kar Krusher, not some anonymous vandal. I'm covered."

"I'd hate to see the blanket. Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks."

Harry went back inside. "I hope he doesn't do that to rooms as well."

PART XLV - IN the MINES...

Zeke got up and poured a stale coffee. "Yep, it's th' spaces between... oh yeah, guess he left." He sat down and mumbled, waiting for the next pilgrim seeking advice from an old fool. He could wait. The mine was strange. Time flowed in odd eddies here beneath the ground, sometimes up hill, sometimes getting caught in the cracks where coal or gold used to sleep. Zeke had an eternity, so waiting came easy.

But the rocks had something else in mind.

They had been grinding together since the planet cooled. Grinding. Eons of abrasion had left them rough and unpleasant. And hungry. They chewed each other, but wanted meatier fare.

Zeke drank his coffee. "Wellp, guess I oughta get ther mail. C'mon, Lassie." He and the imaginary dog began the climb.

The rocks bit down.

Zeke heard the imaginary dog yelp and he turned to see it's leg caught in the rock. He backed down to help Lassie and the rocks had him. Perfect bait - get the dog, and then you get Zeke. Rock started to crawl and envelope Zeke's limbs, and squeezed, it bit down and chewed. The old man screamed. Blood stained the rock and was absorbed. The rocks swallowed his face, and he was silent. The mine closed. And the rocks had something new to eat.

PART XLIV - ANOTHER DISCIPLE BITES the CRUST

It was a sad day for the disciples. They had been so far apart all their lives. But here they were for the funeral of their compatriot, Doc Skuppernung. It seemed like the only reason they could get together was to say goodbye. Nothing could keep them together for more than two hours; they were too different, too much at odds. It wasn't the fact that all had a different story, but that they all had a different fashion trend.

In the coffin lay Skuppernung as half a cumquat dressed in a hot pink tuxedo. They knew this was the way he would have wanted it.

Guido was actually on time, despite the run in with Miss Vickers. On the plus side, most of the slug guts blew off his car on the way over. He parked the driver side towards a wall anyway. He was wearing his traditional bishop outfit, the one he had borrowed from a previous Pope and never returned.

Ed "The Pass" Murphy was standing in a complete football uniform from the Miami Dolphins; the pants were smeared with mud and one shin pad appeared to be cracked. The helmet was scuffed with the shade of green used only on the original Mercedes Benz. He kept trying to snag the incense ball so he could hike it to the Usher.

Stardust was resplendent in his namesake. Most of the other disciples avoided looking at him, since Stardust is more than a little transparent.

Alexander the Smelt swam around and around in a bowl three times too small, and with old water to boot (as far as he was concerned, it may as well have been from a boot.) His scales shined dully in iridescent monochrome, and periodically he squirted water into the coffin, hoping Skuppernung would sprout.

Stephen Lasky the roach tamer wore an Yves St. Laurent tuxedo inside out. His escort of roaches wore Barbie clothes, and danced the tango to the organ music.

Beepo was still in his coveralls, and his fingers were smeared with crushed neutrinos. He hadn't removed the noose.

Moses wore his trade mark robes and turban, and carried a bag of gravel while muttering about life before Messiahs, life in the days of God and Commandments.

No one knew where Mooen Lungsten Ichbaal III was.

George Burns wore a tuxedo and smoked a cigar, and tried to get Moses to be quiet. "Look, Mose, you never did this as a kid..."

Lisa's Infantile Fetish paraded about in a lampshade. This would have upset the others, if Lisa's Infantile Fetish was visible.

Bob's subconscious was very pretentious. It just sat in the corner naked and laughed hysterically.

Ok, it was inconsiderate too.

Bob's superego was as diabolical as most of Freud's theories. It had a complex about women eating bananas and couldn't calculate Pi. It's uncle, on the other hand, was an obese thing and always drank Kavash in the streets of Brooklyn. They were both dressed in camouflage hip-waders and T-shirts that said "I saved the California Condor from starvation by killing more people."

Silky the seal was clad in leather from neck to fin; he had actually been one of Skuppernung's favorite disciples. He would be giving the eulogy along with Judas.

The Dust-mote Man kept moving to the dustiest part of the room. He had a complex for pneumatic tubes and vacuums, and was terribly paranoid of people that inhaled heavily. Nobody knew what he was wearing underneath the sawdust, if anything. They weren't particularly interested, anyway.

Major Archie Loop wore his dress uniform, and had brought along a group of Namibian political prisoners to execute after the funeral.

Judas Iscariot MCMLXXIII wore his skin, which was more challenging for him than for most people. His jaw refused to stay straight, and his knees had an embarrassing habit of reversing their orientation. He covered himself with a body bag and wore sunglasses to hide the patchy complexion and stuffed belly he had.

The Moron Tabernacle Choir rose and started to chant "Open the Hell's Gates" from Bernherd and Young as the high priest entered the cockpit. He sat and started up the special effects machines and started to fill the room with mist from dry ice. Then he began the service. "We are gathered here today to... plant this dude. The Doctor was, let's face it, annoying. So let's not dwell on the morbid details, and remember the good things. Now, the Messiahs won't have to constantly bail him out. They can just crop him once a year."

The choir broke into a rousing chorus of "Help me, I'm falling" and then the disco lights hit the floor. There was dancing and mingling and then it stopped. Judas, now quite sloshed, got up to the front of the room and held up his seventh pitcher of Crown Royal. "He... was a prick..."

Bob's subconscious was holding himself and fell to the floor cackling. "Probably why he got all the women..."

Lisa's infantile fetish sniffled. Alexander the Smelt squirted water, and the roaches snuck under the vegetable and dug in. The high priest raised his hands. "Alright, enough idle celebration. Let's plant the man." A front end loader drove in, picked up the coffin, and dropped it in the garden outside. The disciples said their farewells and got as far away from each other as they could, leaving Stephen Lasky looking about puzzled.

"Has anybody seen my roaches?"

Suddenly, Stephen felt handcuffs against the side of his head. "Freeze, drug fiend!" screamed Deputy Lola `Shooting Pistols' Fitz.

"Wait, Officer, you don't understand, I'm looking for my roaches..."

"Yeah, yeah, tell it to the Judge," said Officer Rae Anne. "Hold these and get in the back of the bike."

PART XLIII - GREEN MEN on TRAMS

The Nameless One jr hopped on the street car with about fifty green fuzzy men. The car started along the Martian Canal.

"Where to, kid?" the driver telepathed.

"Uh, the place where... where my father is..."

"And where might that be?"

"Don't you know?"

"Maybe. Does he have a name?"

"No."

"Right, kid. What's your name?"

"I don't have one... cos, I'm the Nameless One jr."

"I see. Dad would be the Nameless One then?"

"Right."

"Well, I don't happen to know where he might be, or even who he might be."

"He once told me that no matter where you are... You're always here."

"On Mars?"

"No... Where you are?"

"On Mars."

"No. It's hard to explain."

"It's not easy to listen to, either."

"Yeah... well, will you help me find my Dad?"

"Look, kid, I got a job to do. I can take you to the station."

"Okay."

"Fine. The fare's a fuzzy bottle cap."

The Nameless One jr reached into his pocket. "What colour fuzz?"

"I like red, myself."

"Here."

"Thanks." The driver ate the bottle cap and left for the station.

Nameless One jr. moved to the back of the street car. He sat down between two rather large Martians. One looked at him with 12 of his 74 eyes and felt the need to stare. The other had a huge hole in the top of his head and no mouth below the nose. He didn't seem well liked since other riders threw scrap paper and garbage into this hole. He never moved though.

"Excuse me... have any of you... seen my father?"

The Martians wiggled their fingers. A mini TV popped out of the ceiling and said, "I can help you, but I need to be cleaned first."

"Oh.... how much ya pay me?"

"I won't flood your body with cancerous rays."

"Oh. Okay." The Nameless One jr began cleaning the TV.

"The Nameless One is currently under the surface of the planet, investigating some strange machinery. It is impossible to reach him because some Syrius mercenaries are holding the elevators hostage."

"But, why?"

"They want all vertical tunnels to be freed of obstructions."

"But why?"

"Because they are stupid."

"But Why?"

"Genetic deficiencies and a bureaucratic education system. Thank you for the cleaning. This unit is now going off line." The TV disappeared into the ceiling.

Nameless One jr. got off the transport at the station in Kornoch on the west side. There he purchased an environment suit, and started toward the tunnels that would take him below the surface.

Nameless One jr. climbed over the rocks and dunes. One of the shafts came into sight and he picked up his pace. He approached a group of mercenaries of which he knew nothing. This should surprise no one, since the Nameless One jr didn't actually know much of anything.

They came from one of the northern regions that was designated for the original settlers of the area, and really only knew how to fight. They were not very educated, and most of them suffered from nervous distention. This didn't start until a blender was accidentally left within their camp. Many of them spent endless hours trying to teach it how to flatulate with the confidence of an Ooorg and blame it on somebody else in the room. They were truly barbarians.

The Nameless One jr. walked up and said, "Do you know where my father is?"

The mercenaries looked at each other, shrugged, and pulled out their clubs. The Nameless One jr. shrugged and picked up the ground, rolled it up over them, and turned it into a beach ball and bounced them down the tunnel.

After a while, the Nameless One jr. got tired of dribbling them, and he left the ball on a boulder. The boulder got hungry and ate the ball, but got indigestion and exploded in twenty years. The boy didn't know about this, and he kept looking for his father.

PART XLII - DARKNESS DESCENDS on the DARK ONE and HE is LOST

Thunder roared. Lightning flashed. The castle shook and groaned in the storm. Everything was black.

The Dark One rummaged through the drawer. "The Thousand Hells of Mein Kampf, where did I put those damn matches?! Of all the times for the power to go out..."

From the darkness a voice asked, "Why does the Dark One need matches?"

"Because I can't see..."

"Hmmm. The Dark One can't see in the dark. Intriguing."

"I'm in the dark and you find it intriguing... who in Acheron are you?"

"You're avoiding the subject. How do you propose to solve your problems if you won't stick with them?"

The Dark One rummaged for his matches.

"It helps if you talk about these things," the voice said.

"Enough! Be gone!" The Dark One unleashed his full power on the voice. He went back to the drawer.

"That was hardly a friendly or trusting action. Are you aware of your hostility?"

"You fool, I AM hostility!"

"Very good! Go with that! How does this make you feel?"

"HOSTILE!" The Dark One attacked again, destroying the kitchen and igniting the lost matches. "ARRRGH!" He blasted the rubble away.

"Destruction comes easily for you," the voice said conversationally. "This indicates insecurity and underlying feelings of being threatened. I wonder what the root of that might be?"

The Dark One stalked off and bumped into a wall.

"Oohh, silent treatment. Predictable, I'm afraid, and only really effective if I need your responses..."

"Cut the pop psychology, you... whatever you are."

"Ah, that's where you are wrong."

"Silence! I know amateur analysis when I hear it."

"You didn't really expect something deep, did you? Consider what I have to work with..."

"I would destroy you if I could but see!"

"You are doubly blind, and your threat is empty."

"Why?"

"In order to be destroyed, I must first exist."

"If you don't exist, why am I talking to you?"

"Perhaps you should ask your analyst. I'm not in a position to comment, or do anything else for that matter."

"You were just analyzing me damnit! Now you can't comment?"

"I can't have been analyzing you. I don't exist. The logic should be clear, even to you."

"If you don't exist and I DO exist, how the hell can you be talking to me?"

"Who says I'm talking? Are you hearing voices?"

"I'm hearing you whatever, the hell you are."

"My, aren't you pig headed. Why do you persist in asking me questions when I am not real?"

"Because you wouldn't leave me alone."

"But you are alone."

"I can't be sure in the dark!"

"Well, then, let's shed some light on the subject." A lit candle floated out of the darkness.

"Why didn't I think of that? Now if you aren't real and don't exist how can you create a candle?"

"I didn't. The candle was in your dining room."

"How did you light it?"

"Who says I did?"

"Who lit the damn candle?"

"I can't really say, since I'm not real."

"You are a pest!"

"Who are you talking to?"

"Mister non-existent..."

"Oh. Is he present?"

"Fuck off."

"That would be quite a feat, considering."

"Just leave me alone!"

"You already know my answer to that. You really must try to get a grip. It isn't normal to talk to candles."

"Just don't talk to me anymore. Ok?"

"I wasn't talking to begin with."

"What were you doing?"

"I am nothing, therefore I was doing nothing."

"Well if you.... Wait a minute, you are just my imagination! I can't believe I've been arguing with my friggin’ imagination!"

"Ah, progress, but unfortunately incorrect."

"Progress to what end?"

"Well, if you're going to solve your problems, you must face them, right? They won't solve themselves."

"You are a problem and I can't face you."

"Look on the bright side. At least you're aware of your limitations."

"I make limitations. I don't adhere to them!"

"A healthy attitude if I've ever heard one. But of course one must be aware of one's limitations to break them. I think you'll find many of your problems will disappear if you face your inner troubles."

"If you don't exist, you couldn't have a healthy attitude."

"True. But we weren't discussing my attitudes. You're evading the problem again."

"You don't have any attitudes. You DON'T exist."

"Exactly, which makes yelling at me pointless. At any rate, it was your attitudes we were discussing. Do you think them out, or are they raw?"

"You keep saying we! There is only me! I can't discuss anything with myself!"

"That is most discouraging. A good internal dialogue is essential to mental health. Besides, haven't you heard of the Royal We?"

"You can't be discouraged!!!"

"I'm not. I said it was discouraging, I didn't say to whom."

"I'm not talking anymore..."

"Evasion again. If you can't even deal with a non-existent voice, how do you intend to defeat Smith or the AIs? You are crippling yourself from the start."

The Dark One started to whistle and ignore the voice. He blew the candle out in the process. "Shit."

"Brilliant suggestion. You know very well I can't do that."

"What do you non-want, anyway?"

"Nothing, of course. However, if you pay closer attention to yourself, you can probably catch Moon Runner."

"What?! How?!"