🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part Three!]

        "Man," said Sam, peering around the auditorium at the assorted
superheroes, supervillains, Authors, muses, and whatnot that filled the
place. "We're totally outclassed."
        "I dunno," said Bert. "I think we've got a pretty good shot at some
awards this year. Look at how many we're nominated for."
        "Oh, come on, we don't have a chance. I mean, Bob City Chronicles
for best new series against the likes of Preteen Patrol."
        "Stranger things have happened. We're certainly not lacking for
nominations, although we need to work on the 'team' awards."
        Sam snorted. "And just how are we going to do that?"
        "I thought you'd never ask." Bert grinned oilily at his partner.
"My plan is to take all of the otherwise unattached crowd around Bob and
form them into a super team with a name something like 'Sam and Bert's
Collection of Marginally More Dangerous than Usual People.'"
        "You know, that's one of the stupidest ideas you've ever come up
with," said Sam.
        "What's stupid about it? We'd be a shoo-in for best new hero group!
We'd have members with name recognition already. We'd probably get a
nomination simply on the strength of the two of us."
        "Strength?" Sam looked at his biceps unconvincedly.
***
        "Rodney!" Brigadier called as he walked up to Thunder and
Lightning. All three were formally dressed. The men wore tuxedos. Thunder
wore a stunning evening gown. "I see you made it. Where's the rest of the
Corps?"
        "Hi, Chuck," returned Lightning as he shook Brigadier's hand. "The
rest of the Corps isn't coming. Now, if we were qualified for a Grunion, I
might have brought the whole Corps with me. But in this case, it's just me
and Heather here."
        "Where's the rest of the Legion?" Thunder asked.
        "Not here, for much the same reason," Brigadier replied. "But in
this case, we don't even have our own series or anything."
        "Excuse me?" a thirtyish woman interrupted as she walked up. "Hi,
I'm Victoria C. Kritz and I'll be showing you to your seats. If you'll
follow me? Your Author will be joining us soon."
        A horrible cacophony began to wail over the Beanstalk's PA system.
Before it became overwhelming, Thunder negated the noise from the every
speaker on this level.
        "What was that?" Thunder asked.
        "Trust me," Vicky replied. "You don't want to know."
***
     "Bleh," Sven commented upon reaching the top floor of the Beanstalk,
where the presentations were being held. The Deadheads from Planet X
obliged the Slackers by running for the nearest bong, so he was able to
gasp for some fresh air.
     Kevin (the Muse) sighed. "Okay, GC, we'll look for some seats, and..."
He looked around. "GC?"
     General Chaos however, being an Author and being not only dumb as
toast, but also extremely distractible, had seen Thelma the Queen of Bobs
and wandered off to strike up a conversation, leaving her characters in the
lurch. Kevin bleahed and wandered off, hoping to the Regis that the Edited
blocks Gen had put on his mind would stay up long enough that none of the
other Invid would notice him and raise embarrassing questions.  He spotted
Marie by the punch and went exactly the opposite way, miserably
embarrassed.
***
        The Shadowlike Cruiser materialized next to Beanstalk's summit and
roared past, screaming evil. Said evil was a jumbled mix of Roseanne
Arnold's singing, a rare recording of Team Cynical's one-time musical
concert, songs mutilated by Barney the Dinosaur, and other tortuous stuff.
The Beanstalk's PA system picked it up and rebroadcast it all over the
tower.
        It irritated everyone like Hell(tm).
        The Shadowlike Cruiser stopped screaming as it turned around and
docked with one of the Beanstalk's airlocks. Four people disembarked, three
of which bore an uncanny resemblance to each other.
        "Was that necessary?" Anonymech asked.
        "Nope," the Interloper replied, "but it was fun. I do so love
making a grand entrance."
        "It helped that we couldn't hear what was being broadcasted," the
Evil Author's Muse and date snorted. With a mental command from her, the
Shadowlike Cruiser detached itself from the Beanstalk and vanished.
        "Yep," the Interloper agreed. "I'll bet it also irritated the other
Authors like Hell(tm)."
        "It was also an obvious and childish attention getting device," the
Evil Author added, grinning. "Now, let's go find our seats. We have a
Grunion to attend."
        "EA? Can you tell me something?" Vicky, the Evil Author's Muse asked.
        "Sure, what?" inquired the Evil Author.
        "Why did you bring these two along?" she asked, indicating the
Interloper and Anonymech. They had apparently started bickering over
something.
        "Oh, them? I like talking to myself," he replied.
***
     "Okay, let's try this again," Anaesthetic grumbled.  "Next!"
     "That would be us," one of the Swedes close to the front said.
     "All twenty of you?"
     "Eighty thousand, actually," the Swede noted.  "The rest are waiting
outside."
     "Eighty thousand?!?"
     "Well, the other five billion wanted to join us, but we convinced them
it would get a bit crowded, so they're watching via the Authorial News
Network."
     "Don't look at me," Janice said.  "I'm not with him."
     "Yes, you are!" the Swede noted.
     Anaesthetic sighed.  "Invitations?"
     The Swede held out his invitation. The General looked it over and
handed it back.
     "It says there's only one of you," he pointed out.
     "Well, there is, sort of," the Swede said. "It's all very extremely
complicated, you see...."
     "Be that as it may," Anaesthetic interrupted. "I can only let one of
you in.  The rest will have to leave the Beanstalk."
     "Um... what do you think, guys?" the Swede asked.
     "Welllllll," the other Swedes said in unison. "Oooookay."
     "That was easy," Janice said, sounding somewhat surprised. The other
Swedes filed back into the elevator and headed back for the surface, while
the Swede that had been admitted entered the auditorium with Janet.
***
     "I've heard about this, but I've never been to one," smiled Amanda as
she entered the Beanstalk on her husband Ray's arm. "Look at all the
superheroes!"
     "They look like they're having fun," replied Ray. "Think we have a
shot at anything?"
     Amanda looked at Ray. "You're my husband and I love you very much, but
you can be extremely dense sometimes. Of course not. We're so low key that
the caterer has a better chance of being recognized, much less nominated
for anything."
     Ray sighed and nodded, while the two took their seats.
***
     Lieutenant Biggs and Sergeant Locke sighed. The biggest event that the
Beanstalk (and by derivation, STOP) had ever hosted, and they had been
stuck on duty, staring at screens. And not only that, they didn't even get
to watch the screens that showed the show or the crowd of celebrity
seekers. They were stuck watching the perimeter.
     They didn't slack off, of course. Not on this important a night. Not
when you reported to General Anaesthetic.
     "Anything?" Biggs asked?
     "It's a nice night."
     "Nothing, huh?"
     "Nope."
     "Damn."
     They watched a while longer.
     "I hear Spandex Babe, Relativity Woman, Cantata Jones *and* Psybernet
are in there."
     "Shut up."
     They watched.
     Biggs sighed. "I bet they're all involved, though.  I mean, we know
Relativity Woman is, and the rest--"
     "Whoa," Locke said.
     "Yeah. Whoa.  How couldn't they--"
     "No, wait. Shut up. Did you see that?"
     "See what?"
     "I'll show you." Locke rewound one of the screens, and played.
     "Right. The sky. Thank you so--"
     "Just watch."
     There was a sudden ripple, like hot air off of tarmac in the sun.
     "Huh. Weird. Must be an updraft."
     "You think?"
     "Of course. What else could it be?"
     "Yeah. You're right. Besides, we have every active Superguy on the
planet in this place. What kind of problem could we have?"
***
     Within the banquet hall, Murphy blinked and grinned. Frobozz sighed.
     "Don't you ever go off duty?" he asked. "I'm stepping out for some
air... have fun."
     Murphy winked. Several people nearby who saw this immediately chose
the wisest course of action and passed out. It was always better to be
insensate when at ground zero. Less pain that way.
***
     "This is bogus," the Swede grumbled, as he stared up at the far
distant top of the Beanstalk. "We have every right to be in there."
     "I agree," the Swede said. "But what can we do? We don't have any
invitations."
     "We could edit some up," the Swede noted.
     "No we can't," the Swede countered.  "The Author who created the
Beanstalk put some kind of anti-Edit field around the structure."
     "Frobozz?" the Swede asked, as Frobozz happened to saunter by. "Did
you create such a field?"
     "Um, yeah," the author answered.
     Five seconds later, Frobozz staggered into the Beanstalk, whimpering
slightly due to the massive Swedish wedgie that had been administered by no
less than twelve Swedes. The other Swedes pondered their next move.
     "Well, that didn't help," the Swede said.
     "But it did provide a burst of short-term gratification," the Swede
pointed out.
     "Yes, yes, I know," the Swede said. "But... wait, I've got it!"
     "Got what?" the Swede asked. "Is it contagious?"
     "No, no," the Swede said. "I've got the solution!"
     "Great," the Swede answered. "Who has the precipitate?"
     "I'll stand on the shoulders of the Swede here," the Swede said, as he
scrambled onto the Swede's shoulders. "Now you, Swede..."
     "Me?" the Swede asked.
     "No, him," the Swede replied. "Stand on *my* shoulders. And then you
stand on his shoulders, and so on, and so on..."
     Quickly, and bizarrely, the Swede's converged, climbing higher and
higher with every Swede added to the tower....
***
     Psybernet shook her head as an obviously inebriated Nimbus sang
another chorus of "Waltzing Matildha" with !, Mighty Guy, Mighty Dog and
the Masked Bruce. "This is not our finest hour."
     "Mmm," Egoiste agreed. "Still, Geneva... this is almost a pro
forma night for us, is it not? We tied two years ago, we won last year.
Even if we did *not* win this year, our position as the preeminent threat
of this world is assured."
     "Perhaps."  She sipped her wine. "I wonder where the Awe-Inspiring
Force is. I truly expected to see them by now."
     "Perhaps they were at a crucial juncture in their plots to take over
the world, and therefore couldn't make it."
     "Anthony, the ceremony is out of continuity."
     "Oh yes. So it is. Odd."
     "Look," Arsenal said, "if neither of *you* are going to get Drake to
calm down, I am."
***
    Robotech_Master took his seat in the auditorium and glanced at his
watch. "Yeah, I remember being late to these Grunions last time...I barely
arrived before they started. I guess I should be getting here just
about...now."
    Another Robotech_Master, this one wearing an "I WENT TO BOB CITY AND
ALL I GOT WAS ROB MAD AT ME" T-shirt, made his way up the row of seats,
carrying two foaming beer mugs. He sat down next to the first R_M. "Ah,
here we are..."
    "Give me one of those, will you?" the first R_M asked.
    "Hey, get your own!"
    "But I _will_. Or _you_ will. Or did. Damn, these time travel tenses
always mix me up."
    "Just be glad we're not the Swedes." R_M handed one of the mugs to R_M.
    "Amen. Say, where's Miriam?"
    "I think I saw her over there, talking to Z'ko."
    They sat there for a while, and the non-T-shirted one finally said,
"Hey, y'know, I think it's kind of fun double-attending the Grunions like
this..."
    "You think it's fun?" the T-shirted one snorted. "You didn't have to
sit through them _twice_. I already know who's going to win. It's boring.
Also, there's this damn sense of deja vu..._everything_ that happens, I get
the feeling that it's happened before. Yes, I know it _has_ happened
before, but I still get that damn _feeling_. I hate it."
    "That didn't stop you from going down to all the bookies last year,
when this thing was being held in Bob City," R_M pointed out. "Very
lucrative, I expect."
    "Yeah, yeah..." Chris replied. "I'm just glad I still have Edit...had
to deal with huge guys named Vinnie for the next three or four months after
that."
    "One of these days, I'm going to have to grab Gadge, take Zen
Navigator's van back to the Bob City dealership, and become you, so that
you can finally jump back here again and become me. Or, rather, the me
that's in-continuity."
    "Continuity? In AA?" the other R_M chuckled. "Don't be silly."
    "Yeah, well..."  R_M shrugged. "Hey, Summer!" he called to the redhead
sitting two rows in front of him, with the rest of her team. "How you
feeling?"
    "Excited!" Summer replied, twisting around in her seat to face him. "I
mean, I know I won't win...I don't think I'll even place when you consider
everyone else who's nominated. But still, I'm surprised I was even
nominated at all. It's such an honor, and all that...maybe I'll be
nominated again, and have a better chance of winning, next year. But I'm
not holding my breath or anything...not like I need to breathe anyway."
    "Uh-huh," R_M said. "How about Jenny?"
    "I talked to her before the awards... she was so jittery that she had
to burn compute cycles like crazy just to slow herself down enough to talk.
I sure hope she does better than I will... if anyone deserves that Best AI
Grunion, it's her."
    Beside Summer, Mike's comlink blipped.  "That's _computer_
intelligence, Mom!" Jenny's voice said reproachfully.
    Summer shrugged. "That's the name of the category, don't get mad at me."
    "Oh, right. Sorry, Mom."
    The auditorium lights started to darken. "Whoa...I think the show's
about to begin," R_M without T-shirt said. "I can't wait to see who wins."
    "I could tell you."
    "Oh, be quiet."
***
     The lights dimmed. A spotlight flared to life on the stage. A hush
descended upon the crowd. A tuxedo clad man walked on stage and stood
behind a podium. This was the moment for which the crowd had been waiting,
the moment when some would have their dreams answered, the moment when
others would have their hopes and prayers cruelly crushed underfoot by an
uncaring Readership and the moment when everyone in-between could trot out
the well-worn old maxim: 'It's a ****ing honour to be nominated now get the
**** out of my ****ing face you ****ing ****er before I feed you your
****ing camera, ****ed media vultures.' Everyone sat poised with
anticipation. Everyone waited for the man to speak and break the silence.
Everyone waited... and waited... and waited...
     Offstage, Peter Kent slapped his forehead, and whispered to Doyle.
"Say, did we remember to mention to you that the MC is mute?"
     Doyle blinked, then calmly turned to Kent. "Kent?" he said.
     "Yeah?" replied the engineer.
     "I'm going to kill you now," replied Doyle, still the portrait of
utter calm. "It may be quick. It may be slow. It may be excruciating. It
may be over before you've felt a thing. But never doubt that you are going
to die. Soon. Very soon. But not until you sort out this mess."
     "Right," replied Kent, getting up. "I'll see if there's anyone in the
audience who can help."
     "Ask Morbid. He might be able to do something for you once you're dead."
     "No, I meant with Mime Man."
     "Oh, right, that."
***

[TOMORROW: THE 1995 GOLDEN GRUNIONS - PART ONE! BE THERE... OR BE UNPOPULAR!]