🚀 go-pugleaf

                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
                            THE ROMANCING OF STONES
                              (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                                  Episode 10
                                    "Bacon"
                                      by
                                 Gary W. Olson

                                     -~-_-

     Kalvin Certain blinked.  At least, it felt to him like he was blinking.
It was difficult to tell, since all he could see was darkness.  He tried
moving his arms, and found them pinned to his sides.  Something soft was
pressed against his face, and his boots were pressing against something
vaguely metallic.
     From the echoes of his breathing, Kalvin decided that he was in a
small enclosure, possibly a cabinet, or a closet.  With a determined effort,
he shifted his shoulders so that his arms could move a little, and his
fingers searched the metal in front of him for an opening, finally locating
a seam.  He pushed hard, and heard a creaking sound.
     "Ow," he said, upon realizing that he was the one doing the creaking.
His muscles felt sore, and as he relaxed, he fought to remember how he had
gotten into this position in the first place.  Only a few days ago, he had
been wandering through the mobius-strip-like liquor aisle of the Planet
of Supermarkets, haggard and a far cry from his peak as an intergalactic
arch-criminal and fop.  Then, G.X.P. Varneyloop recruited him and Megabot to
take a pack of batteries to Kissy Hitowers' residence on Eroticon III, to
put them into his robot half-duplicate.  He managed to complete that, despite
interference from Kissy and some of the Renegade Anarchists.  And then...
and then...
     He was here, trapped.
     Someone was making sounds, outside.  Kalvin hesitated, wondering if it
would be all that good of an idea to gain the attention of that someone.  The
air was getting stale, and Kalvin realized that if he didn't exit soon, he
might suffocate.  Plus, he had had five cups of coffee that morning.
     Kalvin pounded on the door.  The someone outside heard the sounds, and
Kalvin winced as light flooded into the small space.
     "Ah, there you are!" the short, balding man said.  "Dressing room too
roomy for you, then?"
     "Huh?" Kalvin asked, which was about all that he could ask in response.
     The man looked Kalvin up and down.  "You're not what we ordered, really.
Damn those temp agencies!  Still, I see you're already partially in costume,
and it's too late to send you back now, so come on.  Get outta there and
get the rest of the suit on."
     "Um...okay," Kalvin said.  The man took his hand and pulled him out
of what turned out to be a small closet.  Kalvin groaned and stretched his
arms, noticing in the process that bright yellow spandex was covering his
regular suave space smuggler garb.  The man noticed that too, and snarled.
     "Geez, don't they test you on this stuff?" he asked, angrily.  "You
take the civvies *off* before you put the costumer on."  The man looked at
his watch.  "Look, I don't got time for this.  Get into your costume and
go to Studio 11, okay?  Your cape is on the hook on the door over here, and
here's your chest prosthetic."
     Kalvin looked at the rubber prosthetic, and realized it was the size
of a large bean bag, or a small pony.  Before he could protest, the man was
already out the door.
     "And wear the boots," the man said, without turning.  "I don't care how
tight they are."  The door closed, and Kalvin stared at it for several
moments, pondering his chances of escape.  The man wasn't armed, but the
tone of his voice implied that his leaving was not an option.
     Besides, if he went through with it, he might be able to pick up some
monetary units, so that he could get off whatever planet he was on and get
back to the Planet of Supermarkets, so he could collect his payment from
Varneyloop.
     He reached for the spandex trousers, wincing at the clashing colors.

                                     -~-_-

     "No beer, huh?" Pope Joe Don I asked.
     "Nope," Zen Navigator answered.
     "Any convenience stores nearby?" Joe Don I asked.  "My Papal Express
Card is accepted anywhere in Europe."
     "All that is outside at the moment are giant space worm innards,"
Zen told him.  "Though if we drive on a bit farther, it is possible that
we might encounter Europe."
     "What's a Europe?" Quooth asked.  "Is it something that giant space
worms eat?"  He toyed with his Holy Harmonica absently as he spoke.
     "None have so far," Zen said.  "At least, not that I have heard.  I'm
sure they would try if they had the chance."
     Joe Don I noticed that Schlub was leaning over the machine he had
teleported into Zen's minibus with, and shooed him away.  Zen looked at
the machine, and recognized it instantly.
     "An ABPSARI!" he exclaimed.  "And so...uniquely designed!"
     "Thanks," Joe Don I said, grinning buffoonishly.
     "I take it this is how you managed to transport yourself from Earth
to here," Zen said.  "How much spam did you put into it?"
     "I didn't," Joe Don I answered.  "I poured some Schlitz into it."
     "Isn't that somewhat hazardous?" Quooth inquired.  "Not to mention
against good taste?"
     "Putting any substance other than spam into the ABPSARI's inter-
nucleic reaction chamber tends to cause dangerous, unpredictable
reactions," Zen said.  He rocked back on his heels, and looked at
the ceiling, a wry smile crossing his face.  "Takes me back to my college
days at Interstellar University..."
     "You went to IU?" Quooth asked.  "When?"
     "Oh..." Zen paused, and looked at the minibus's chronometer.  "About
four thousand years from now.  Unfortunately, I wasn't able to graduate.
It was discovered that I was not only there as a student, but that my
professor in Zen Channel Surfing 401 was also me, as was my student advisor.
Apparently at a couple points in my life I was stranded and needed some
cash to buy transportation, so I managed to get them to hire me..."
     "I had always thought that meeting oneself as a result of time travel
could disturb the flow of history and result in damaging paradoxes," Quooth
told him.  "Or perhaps I was hallucinating that part."
     "No, it's true," Zen said.  "I am an exception to that rule.  Please do
not ask me to explain why -- it is something that cannot be understood without
having had the experience.  There is only one that I know of in all my travels
who could even begin to understand, and she doesn't live in this altiverse."
     Schlub continued to examine the machine, oblivious to the conversation
around him.
     "What are you doing, friend headless one?" Quooth asked.  Schlub pointed
to the funnel leading to the inter-nucleic reaction chamber, and then to a
panel in the side of the minibus that was connected to the drive system of
the minibus.
     "I think I see your strategy," Zen said.  "However, the spam in the
drive system of my minibus cannot be extracted from inside.  And if it were
extracted from outside, the Oxy-Moran would lose power, and you all would
suffocate."  He looked at Schlub again, appraisingly.  "Except possibly for
you, as you do not seem to need to breathe."
     "Perhaps he is suggesting that the ABPSARI be hooked into your craft's
drive system, and that something else be inserted into it to use as fuel,"
Quooth said.
     "I didn't bring any Schlitz with me," Joe Don I said, apologetically.
     "Yes, an excellent strategy!" Zen exclaimed.  "But what shall we use?
The reaction will be unpredicable, and will likely cause the deaths of
everyone present!  And, having experienced death before, let me say that it
is very overrated!"
     "It would seem that a special item would be necessary," Quooth said,
thoughtfully.  "Something that might cause a reaction that might have more
benevolent results."
     "I brought a Playboy along," Joe Don I offered.  Everyone, including
Schlub, ignored him.
     "Something special," Zen mused.  "Something...divine, perhaps?"
     "That would seem to be the..."  Quooth's sentence trailed off, as
he noticed how peculiarly Zen was looking at him.  Or rather, at the Holy
Harmonica he was toying with.
     "No," he said.  "Sorry, friend, I cannot allow the Holy Harmonica to be
destroyed."
     "I am not suggesting its destruction!" Zen exclaimed.  "I have another
plan!"
     "Which is?" Quooth asked, as he guarded the Harmonica carefully.

                                     -~-_-

     "Woog," Jerriphrrt groaned, as he woke up.  He was still in his cell,
he deduced.  There were no windows to indicate whether it was day or night,
but Jerriphrrt decided that several hours must have passed.
     The succubus who had claimed to be Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210, was
sitting in one corner of the cell, her knees drawn up to her chin.  She was
awake, but didn't seem to be aware that Jerriphrrt had awoken, or that he
was even present.
     After a while, she blinked, and looked at Jerriphrrt strangely.  It was
then that Jerriphrrt realized he had been staring.
     "Er, Lark?" he asked.  "Not that it's any of my business what decisions
you make regarding your personal life, but..."
     "It wasn't my choice," Lark said, sighing.  "This body belongs to Melu
Ulem, a succubus who was part of Time Central's Special Operations division.
I was escorting her to Earth, so that she could accomplish her mission."
     "What was her mission?" Jerriphrrt asked.
     "To kill the Pope," she said.  "I'm not sure why, exactly.  I only learned
after she consumed my soul."
     "So how did...um...this come about?"
     "When a succubus consumes a soul, she doesn't have to drain the living
energy from it right away," Lark explained.  "I was consumed, and...stored,
I guess you would call it, in order to force BRENDA to let her off the ship.
She attacked Joe Don I, but he had this ABPSARI, you see, and he poured
Schlitz into it..."
     "Eww," Jerriphrrt commented.
     "Tell me about it," Lark sighed.  "It resulted in an explosion that
destroyed the Vatican and teleported everyone in the room to a random
destination, including my real body."
     "How did your real body get there?"
     "I think Sid and Johnny took control of it," Lark said.  He saw
Jerriphrrt's questioning look.  "My sideburns," he explained.  "Anyway, the
ABPSARI's reaction seems to not only have teleported me here, it seems to have
given me control of her body."
     "What happened to Melu?"
     "I don't know," Lark admitted.  "She didn't take my place -- I can't
sense her anywhere.  Fortunately, there are a couple other souls in here that
I can subsist on for a few days."
     "But...you're killing them!" Jerriphrrt protested.  "It's immoral!  It's
unethical!  It's..."
     "They're game show hosts," Lark added.
     "Bon appetit," Jerriphrrt said.
     "Thanks," Lark said, sarcastically.  "This is a rather unsettling thing
for me to experience."
     "I can imagine," Jerriphrrt replied.  "I didn't know game show hosts
even *had* souls!"
     "Neither did I, but that's not what I meant," Lark said.  "I mean the
experience of having to subsist on the life energy of another being.  Not that
it excuses what succubi and incubi do, but I think I understand them a little
better now."  Jerriphrrt nodded.  "Of course, we'll have to get out soon.
Else, I'll get hungry, and...um..."
     "I get the point," Jerriphrrt said.  He looked down, and immediately
crossed his legs.  "Um," he added.
     "There's a ring on your finger," Lark said, as she relaxed, stretching
out her tail a bit.  "Don't tell me you're married now."
     "Engaged, to Gham," Jerriphrrt said.  "We were going to be married
some months ago.  But then James convinced me to hold a pre-ceremony
celebration on Barbados, and, after a few months of that, he, Gham, Emma, and
the ship got mysteriously teleported away.  Slithis, Benjen and I started
searching for them, a bunch of weird stuff happened, and I got teleported
here."
     "DON'T FORGET TO TELL THEM ABOUT YOUR DEATH SENTENCE!" the speaker voice
boomed from the walls.  Lark jumped up and yelped.
     "I was just getting to that!" Jerriphrrt yelled.  "I'm under a death
sentence that will be carried out in the morning, for defiling some moron's
tomb..."
     "THE GREAT FERTILIZER GOD KA IS NOT A MORON!" the voice insisted.
     "Course, I don't remember doing any defiling," Jerriphrrt said.  "I just
have this creep's word to take for it."
     "IT HAPPENED!  HONEST!"
     "What about me?" Lark asked.  "I haven't defiled anything!"
     "NO, BUT YOU TOUCHED THE UNHOLY TRANSGRESSOR!  AND NOW YOU HAVE HIS
COOTIES!"
     "I...see," Lark said, looking at Jerriphrrt.  Jerriphrrt shrugged.
"So, when is this execution thingy going to happen?"
     "OH, RIGHT NOW, I THINK," the voice said.  The cell door opened, and
a group of large, burly guards dressed in gold and fine silk loincloths
stomped in, spears at ready.  A man who looked rather astonishingly like
Jaye Davidson walked in and smiled at them.
     "WALK THIS WAY," he said, as he started to turn.
     "If we could walk that way..." Lark and Jerriphrrt started.  The guards
pressed their spears against Lark's and Jerriphrrt's necks.  "...nevermind."

WILL LARK/MELU AND JERRIPHRRT MANAGE TO ESCAPE?
WHAT HAPPENED TO MELU?
WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE OTHER SUB-PLOTS THAT WEREN'T COVERED IN THIS
     INSTALLMENT?
IS ANYONE FOLLOWING THIS?
AM I FOLLOWING THIS?
WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?

You'll find out, and so will I, in the next bizarre installment of this series,
only on SFSTORY!  Yes, SFSTORY, do you hear me?  SFSTORY!  There!  I said it
and I'm proud!!  Hahahahahahahaaaa!!!!
--
Gary W. Olson         swede@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu         swede@drycas.bitnet

       "Mine brain has meditated on the spinning of The Chao
        It is hovering o'er the table where the Chiefs of Staff are now
        Gathered in discussion of the dropping of The Bomb
        Her Apple Corps is strong!"
                     - The Battle Hymn of the Eristocracy (first verse)