🚀 go-pugleaf

     Lurking on top of big high things is as old as the superhero/
supervillain professions themselves. Mages lurked in towers in ancient
times, vampires lurked in mountain castles, heroes climbed to the top of
just about darn near anything to look cool. So someone standing in
red-and-green body armor on top of a hill is no big surprise. Well, okay
maybe a -bit- surprising. Red-and-green isn't exactly the 'in' color
scheme for non-Christmas-oriented characters. I'm sure it means
-something- important, but darned if I know what.
     Um... anyway. Where was I... oh! Right. Okay. Character on hill.
Colored body armor. Okay, next up is some description and detail and
stuff of that nature.
     The person on the hill -- a woman, it was apparent, as her body
armor accentuated her figure nicely -- was deep in thought. Her eyes
were half-closed, and she looked down on the city below her, not
needing to do such mortal things as squint at the setting sun's light
glinting off the skyscrapers. She held a sword -- long, made of some
odd, nearly translucently pale white metal -- lightly in one hand, the
tip mere inches from the ground, but held steady, unwavering despite
its probably impressive weight. The woman's hair -- reddish-purple in
the fading sunlight -- eddied around her as if blown by an unseen wind.
For many minutes she stood there -- as she had been standing there for
hours before -- motionless, indecisive. Waiting.
     Okay. Introduced character. Described character. Did random stuff
about lurking on hill. Okay... next... um... right! What this opening
scene needs is some Kosh-like dialog!
     "The catalyst is in place..." the woman murmured softly. "But will
she be enough..."
     **Eh, who cares,** her sword replied. **I bet there are some good
bars in that town -- let's go get plastered.**
     The woman blinked. "I punch through spacetime, which was not exactly
easy, make it here, spend two hours agonizing over what to do next, and
you want me to just say 'bugger it' and go get drunk?"
     **Um... yeah?**
     "No... I need to know that the requisite events will occur. I can't
be certain, yet."
     **And if you keep standing here, you're gonna draw attention to
yourself. Unless you -want- to get caught.**
     "But..."
     The sword seemed to sigh, if swords were capable of sighing. **If
you're still that nervous, then find a pawn and add them into the
equation. That'll balance things out.**
     "Mmm... worth a try," the woman said, her eyes scanning the city
below, not caring about the distance between her and where she was
looking. "And I see just the target..."
     **I'm happy for you. Let's get this over with and blow this place
before any interference shows up.**
     Smiling coldly to herself, the woman stepped sideways through space
and vanished.

               Life and Times of the Most Totally Evil
                         episode fifteen
                               and
                         Preteen Patrol
                       episode thirty-eight
                   "Children's Hour" part two
                               by
                          Jesse Taylor
                               and
                          Greg Fishbone
      Who spend entirely too much time on this 'Superguy' thing

[Continuity Note: Takes place a day or two after the previous episode
which, as we noted, does not take place. In other words, not only are we
asking you to do the standard "Suspension of Disbelief" thing, we're
asking you to do it for something that doesn't exist. I mean, we're
talking major nothing here. Doesn't happen. Empty as Trea's head kind of
nothing. So, while you stare into the blankness of the page where this
episode would be if it existed, we ask you to keep in mind that it takes
place after the last one. Got it? Good.]

[Author's Note: I know the thing before the credits has apparently
nothing to do with anything at all. It's called foreshadowing.]

     In the asteroid belt of the Sol system, ships moved into position,
clustering around several carefully-maintained outposts carved out of the
larger asteroids in the belt. Their equipment was for the most part old
and worn, or salvaged from the many wrecked starships that littered the
major battlefields here and there in the Sol system. Some was new,
purchased from alien merchants, or fabricated in the few remaining zero-
gee factory facilities the force had been able to maintain.
     Despite the hardship, the loneliness, the long nights with no end in
sight, the force of hardened Bwaharans manning the outposts never wavered
in their devotion. Their Admiral would return and lead them to victory,
when the time was right. And they would be ready, to crush the Earthers
at last.
     But that goal, as they well knew, was many months, or even years,
off. So they were content to wait, quietly monitoring and building up
their facilities, trying to acquire more ships to add to their small,
battered fleet.
     The commander of Morgan's forces in the asteroid belt paced on the
bridge of his base, the only sounds the quiet beeping of the computers,
the soft tapping of keys, the empty whirr of the air recycler, and the
click of his boots on the metal deck. Normally he sat in silence, or went
over reports, or watched the small television set at his station. But not
today. Today, he had a feeling.
     *breep*
     The bridge crew froze, as one, for nearly a full minute.
     *breep*
     "Er, incoming communication signal, sir!" said the communications
tech, finding his voice again.
     "On-screen," the commander said, straightening his uniform.
     "It's on the command channel, sir," the tech advised, then patched
it through.
     "Admiral." The commander saluted sharply, recognizing the face on
the other end instantly. "Er... you... er... look younger."
     "No, really?" Admiral Morgan replied, rolling her eyes. "We had an
ubertech accident."
     "My apologies," the commander said, nodding. "Er... so... is it
time?"
     "Mmm... not quite yet. But I do have some orders for you."
     "Name it, and it shall be done, Admiral," the commander said, a
fanatical light in his eyes.
     "I will be heading to Dillweed City on Earth to attack a hero known
as Spoonman, and--"
     "Er," the commander said. "Uh, pardon me for interrupting, but, um,
did you just say Spoonman?"
     Morgan nodded slightly. "Yes, I said Spoonman."
     The commander of the Bwaharan forces in the Sol system, fanatical
follower of his Admiral's cause, decorated soldier and veteran of a
hundred space battles visibly paled and looked like he wanted very much
to go hide behind something. "Er... Spoonman? As in, the greatest hero in
the world? Er... um... you don't want -us-... to fight -him-... do you?"
     Morgan facepalmed. "No, you moron. You're more useful to me where
you are."
     "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou..."
     "Shut up and let me talk, or I'll have to think of a painful way to
kill you," Morgen growled.
     "Yes, Admiral."
     "As I said, I'll be fighting him, and it's entirely possible he may
be assisted. In my current condition it's entirely possible that I will
lose. Therefore, from this point on, I will be contacting you at 48 hour
intervals -- if at any point I fail to call in, you are to broadcast a
message demanding my release and begin the immediate bombardment of
Earth's population centers with the mass drivers. Understood?"
     The commander nodded, grinning coldly. "I'll not fail you, my
Admiral."
     "I expect no less," she said simply, nodding and cutting the
connection.
     The commander stared at the empty screen for a long time. "Man," he
said finally. "Maybe we'll actually get to do something soon instead of
just being background characters."
     The crew all pondered this for a while.
     "Naah."

<----->

     "Well... that went well. I think..." Turalyn said, as the viewer
shut off. Morgan sighed cutely and hopped down out of the command chair.
"So, uh, what now?"
     Morgan grinned in a cutely evil manner. "It's still 5AM in Dillweed
City. By now, Zapper and N'tyril have successfully faked transcripts and
exchange information for us."
     "Er... hunh?"
     Morgan rolled her eyes at him. "-Think-, fool. Spoonman has a
sidekick, correct?"
     "Er... yeah?"
     "A -young- sidekick, correct?"
     "Um..." Turalyn's eyes suddenly lit up. "Someone young enough to be
in grade school... And she'd probably be enrolled in the same city where
the Spoonman concentrates his activities..."
     "Exactly!" Morgan said, grinning evilly. "From analyzing her size
and other physical indicators, I've calculated her probable grade level,
and enrolled myself and Trea in that class. You, Zapper and Grounder will
also infiltrate the school, and provide the distractions that will lure
her out so that she has no choice but to show her true colors!"
     "Distractions?"
     "Right. You lure her out, then we kidnap her and use her as bait to
lure the Spoonfool out into the open! And then... revenge!
BWahahahahahaha!!!"
     Turalyn nodded, slowly grinning. "You know... that might just work."
     Morgan winked at him. "Of course it will work. It's me."
     "You're right. What could go wrong, anyway?"

<----->

     The grade school routine has, unlike the rest of the the vastness
of western society, remained mostly constant over the years. In the
morning, the class files in, rowdy, disorganized, unruly. Things
gradually calm down as the time to start approaches, until finally the
teacher arrives, signalling that it is time for last-minute pranks to be
executed, last-minute notes to be passed, and the time when any changes
in the routine became immediately apparent.
     Case in point.
     "Class, we have some transfer students from..." the teacher looked
up from the class roll. "Where did you say you were from?"
     The red-haired girl in the front of the room looked up from where
she was trying to keep her brown-haired companion from wandering off and
exploring the classroom. "Um... Fort Morgan, Arizona."
     The teacher nodded. "Really? I've been thinking of taking a vacation
there, some time. What's it like in Arizona?"
     "Um... it's... um... very Arizona-like..."
     "I imagine so..." the teacher said, eyeing her two new students
carefully. "Well... I'm Ammy, and you two are... Kassandra and Trea?"
     "That's me, yay!" enthused the brown-haired girl.
     "Nice... to... meet you... Ammy," the red-haired girl managed,
looking as if she was seriously considering disemboweling the teacher.
"I'd -really- rather you call me Kate, though."
     Ammy nodded, seriously. "Nice to meet you, too, Kate." She looked up
at the class. "Now, you'll all try and make our new students feel
welcome, right?"
     It should be noted that this question, in a classroom setting, has a
standard reply that is so universal that in most places it has become an
automatic and deeply ingrained ritual.  In most of America, that reply
is, "Yes, Ma'am!" delivered in a sing-song tone that results when every
member of a group is just pretending to go along with all the others, but
is actually thinking something like, "Yeah, right, that'll be the day."
The Japanese equivalent, "Hai, sensei!" sounds a bit more enthusiastic at
first, until you realize that while the students are saying this, each
one is mentally picturing themselves throwing sharp implements of death
at the new students in question.  On the planet Holthagor, the standard
response, "Of course, Great Mistress of Evil!" is actually accompanied by
a series of cantrips and hexes.  You get the picture.
     But once in a while, if you explore the backwater nooks of this
great galaxy of ours, you will come across a culture where things have
evolved slightly differently, where the expected norms of civilized
behavior do not quite apply.  Such a place is Dillweed City.
     "Now, you'll all try and make our new students feel welcome, right?"
asked Ammy, in case you had forgotten.  In response, the students of the
class stood up on their desks and began to chant in unison.
     "Yay, Kate!  Yay, Trea!  Yay, yay, Kate and Trea!  Kate!  Trea!
Kate and Trea, yay!"  Morgan was so surprised that she was unable to blink
for nearly ten seconds.
     "Good," said the young teacher.  "There are a couple empty seats in
the third row.  Kate, you can sit on the end next to Mickey, and Trea can
sit over by Astatine."
     "Yay!" exclaimed Trea and Astatine, at virtually the same time.
     Morgan rolled her eyes.  "Couldn't Trea and I sit together?" she
asked.
     "We rearrange the seating order from time to time, but for now
you'll just have to get used to being apart."
     Morgan grumbled to herself, something about adding Ammy to her list
of People Who Really Deserve to Die, and walked back to her seat.
Mickey, the black-haired boy in the seat next to hers, had his hands
folded in front of him as he whistled and watched Morgan out of the
corner of his eye. "What's your problem?" she demanded.
     "Problem?  No problem at all."  He looked up at the ceiling as if it
were the most interesting thing he had seen all day.
     Morgan shrugged and sat down, and immediately jumped up about five
feet into the air upon discovering the hard way that her seat was
unexpectedly covered with ice cubes.  "Yeek!"  The boy next to her nearly
fell out of his chair, laughing.  He was still laughing as Morgan pressed
a portable blaster against his head.
     "Kate?  Is something wrong?" asked the teacher.
     "Uh, no ma'am," said Morgan, quickly putting her blaster away.  "I'm
just really excited to be here."  She scooped the ice into her hands and
dumped it into the boy's lap.  "After school.  You.  Die," she stated.
     "Hey, I was just trying to be friendly," said Mickey.  "You know...
break the ice?"  She glowered at him.  "You know, you're kind of cute
when you glower like that."
     "I'm not cute!" she exclaimed.
     Another red-haired girl in the row behind hers tapped Morgan on the
shoulder.  "You've got to put more emphasis on the last word," she
advised. "Like this...  I am not *cute*!"  Morgan just stared at her.
     On the other side of the row, Trea and Astatine were discovering
that they had a lot in common.  "Do you like chocolate?" asked the blonde
girl. Trea nodded enthusiastically.  "Me too!  Yay!"
     "Do you like licorice?" asked Trea.
     "Licorice, yay!"
     "Yay!"  She took a roll of strawberry licorice out of her pocket.
"Would you like some?"
     Astatine stared.  "You have licorice and you haven't eaten it yet?"
     "I haven't had a chance.  I just shoplifted it this morning."
     "Oh."  Astatine thought for a second that there was something wrong
about what Trea had said, but then decided that it was probably nothing
important.  "Yay!"
     At the front of the class, Ammy was lecturing on the subject of
adjectives.  When she turned to write something on the blackboard, one of
the other students tapped Trea on the shoulder and gave her a folded slip
of paper.  "It's from Kate," he said.
     "Thanks!" said Trea.  She waved at Morgan from across the room.
"Hey! I got your note!  Yay!"  Morgan dropped her face into her palms.
Ammy looked over and smiled slightly, but did not take the note away.
     Trea cleared her throat and began to read the note.  "Trea, you
idiot!" she read.  "Don't read this note out loud so that everyone else
can hear it, you fool!"  She stopped and blinked twice.  "Oh, right,
sorry..."  At the other end of the row, Morgan banged her head against
her desk.
     Trea continued reading in silence.  "Hmmm," she said, once she had
reached the end.  As ordered, she put her hand into her pocket and
pressed a button on her secret transmitter.  Nothing happened.  She
frowned and pressed the button again.  Nothing happened.  She pressed it
a third time. Nothing happened.
     "You have to adjust the frequency modulation," Astatine told her.
     "I do?"
     "Yeah.  There's a local emergency band that's interfering with your
transmission."
     "Oh."  She took the secret transmitter out of her pocket and began
to disassemble it on the desk.
     "Turn it up by six-point-three megahertz," said Astatine.
     Trea made the adjustment.  She put the unit back together and
pressed the button again.  The school gymnasium exploded.  "Oh!  That's
much better!  Thanks!"
     "You're welcome."
     "Everybody settle down please," said Ammy, walking over to the
window. Across the courtyard, a thick plume of smoke could be seen rising
from the gym at the other side of the school building.  "Nothing to worry
about," she said, pulling the shade closed.  "I'm sure some superguys
will show up sooner or later to take care of things."
     "Spoonman!" exclaimed half the class.
     "Spoongirl!" exclaimed the other half.
     "Sporkboy!" shouted Mickey.  His classmates looked at him,
curiously. "You know, the cool-looking young hero with the sporks!"  His
classmates looked at him and blinked.  "Sporks!  Those half-fork, half-
spoon things you get in the cafeteria!  Those things!  And he uses them
to fight crime!"
     "May I be excused?" asked the red-headed girl sitting behind Morgan.
"I... uh... have to use the bathroom."
     "Of course, Nancy," said the teacher.  Nancy ran out of the room so
fast that she seemed to be a streak of color.
     Morgan nodded to Trea.  "We have to go too, right Trea?"
     "If you say so, Kate."
     "Me too," said Mickey.
     "All right," said Ammy, waving the three of them toward the door.
"Anyone else have to use the bathroom now?"
     "Teeny does!" said Mickey.  "Right, Teeny?"
     "No, not really..."
     "Sure you do!"
     "But I went before we left the house this morning, Mickey..."
     "Well, you have to use it again," he insisted.
     "No, really, I'm fine."  The room was rocked by another explosion
from the area of the gymnasium.  "In fact, I could probably wait until
late afternoon, depending on how much I have to drink with lunch."
     Mickey sighed and leaned forward to whisper in his cousin's ear.
"You know those girls, Kate and Trea?  I don't think they went to the
bathroom at all.  I think they went down to the cafeteria for some
pizza..."
     Astatine's hand shot up.  "Ammy?  I changed my mind.  I have to go
to the kitchen--  I mean, I have to go to the bathroom after all!"
     "All right, don't take too long," said the teacher.  "Anyone else
have an itchy bladder this morning?  No?  Good.  Let's finish up our
grammar lesson, and then it looks like gym is outside today."
     "Yay, gym!  Yay, outside!  Yay, yay, gym outside!  Gym!  Outside!
Gym outside, yay!"
     "What do we do now?" asked Trea, out in the hallway.
     "Now we watch Grounder and Zapper capture Spoongirl.  Once we have
her, Spoonman is as good as ours as well!"
     "And if they can't capture Spoongirl?"
     "Come on, Trea.  She's just a kid, after all.  How tough can she
be?"

<----->

     Spoongirl pivoted easily out of the way as a laser beam carved a
smoking path in the ground next to her. She had no idea who these two
people who had attacked her were, but that didn't change the fact that
they had, in fact, attacked her, and hence she was going to have to beat
them up in a properly heroic fashion.
     Exactly four and a half seconds later, Spoongirl was just shaking
her head sadly, and her two attackers were stuffed into two conveniently
placed trashcans. "Why can't I ever find any -real- opponents?" she
muttered.
     "Wow!" came a voice from behind her. Spoongirl blinked and turned,
to see Sporkboy running up. "That was awesome!"
     Spoongirl shrugged modestly, then blinked as something occurred to
her. "It's odd to see you here without AquaRegia..."
     "Huh?" Sporkboy looked around. "She was... right here... uh oh." He
looked around, but saw no sign of his cousin. "Um..."
     Spoongirl sighed, exasperatedly. "I'll check the gym for more
explosives, you go find your partner." Sporkboy hesitated, then nodded
and dashed off, leaving Spoongirl to duck into the ruins of the gym.

     Just as the two preteen heroes had ducked out of the scene on their
various missions, our two (now) preteen villains ducked into the scene...
and looked confused.
     "Where the heck are Grounder and Zapper?" Morgan wondered, looking
around confusedly. "They should have beaten Spoongirl by now..."
     Trea looked around, idly munching on a candy bar. "I think they're
in those trashcans there."
     "I... gah!" Morgan sighed and wandered over to the nearest one and
kicked it repeatedly. "Hey, you in there. Wake up."
     "Wurgh..." the trashcan replied. One of the feet sticking out of it
twitched.
     "Damn her..." Morgan growled. "She beat up my henchmen! No fair!"
     Trea shrugged. "Can we go back inside, now? I need to get a drink of
water."
     "No we can't go back inside, you fool! We've got to find Spoongirl
before she gets away!"
     "But I have to finish my candy bar..." Trea protested.
     "Throw it away -- we've got stuff to do!" Morgan growled.
     "Don't throw it away -- I'll eat it!" came a cheerful voice from
behind Trea.
     "Eep!!" Morgan and Trea chorused, whirling.
     "Who...?" Morgan growled, pointing a heavy blaster pistol at
AquaRegia (like you didn't know it was her already). "So, Spoongirl,
you've found us!"
     "You want my candy bar?" Trea queried. AquaRegia nodded vigorously.
     "Prepare to die!" Morgan exclaimed, levelling her blaster. She
paused. "Ahem. Prepare to die!"
     "Um... you can have this last bit..." Trea said, breaking off a
chunk of the candy bar.
     "Yay!"
     "Excuse me?" Morgan said, clearing her throat.
     "Yay candy! Yay bar! Yay, yay candy bar! Candy! Bar! Candy bar yay!"
AquaRegia exclaimed, doing a little dance.
     Morgan blinked, then slowly grinned. "How would you like some jelly
beans?" she tried.
     "Yay jelly! Yay beans! Yay, yay jelly beans! Jelly! Beans! Jelly
beans yay!" AquaRegia said, holding out her hands expectantly.
     "Mmm... well... if I give you these, will you tell me something?"
     "Sure!"
     Morgan smiled, dangling a bag of jellybeans in front of AquaRegia.
"You're Spoongirl, right? Just in a different costume?"
     "Well... I -was- Spoongirl Prime yesterday..." AquaRegia offered,
hesitantly.
     Morgan smiled reassuringly and handed over the jelly beans. "See?
That wasn't so bad, was it?"
     "Yay!"
     "Hey! Those were mine!" Trea protested. Morgan clobbered her.
"Ouchie!"
     "Now, how about coming with us?" Morgan said, still smiling, as
AquaRegia chowed down on the jelly-beans. "I've got -lots- more where
those came from."
     "Yay!" AquaRegia exclaimed, doing a Jelly Bean Dance.
     Morgan smiled, still reassuringly, but her eyes were cold.
"Excellent." She tapped her comm-badge. "Turalyn, activate the
teletransporter. Five to beam up."
     "Do I get ice cream too--" AquaRegia managed to get out before the
teletransport beam whisked her, Morgan, Trea, Grounder and Zapper away.

     "Ast--er, AquaRegiaaaa?" Sporkboy yelled, scrambling around in the
rubble. "Hello?"
     "Can't find her?" Spoongirl asked, dropping down behind him from
somewhere above.
     "No... She's just disappeared..."
     "I'm sure we'll hear something from her soo--"
     "ATTENTION!" boomed a massive voice from far above them. The two
preteen defenders of truth and justice whirled and looked skyward to see
a small spaceship floating over the city. "SPOONMAN! THIS IS ADMIRAL
MORGAN! I HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER AS MY PRISONER!"
     Spoongirl blinked. "Wha...?"
     "YOU WILL COME TO THE CONVENIENTLY ABANDONED FACTORY AT THE SOUTH
SIDE OF TOWN BY MIDNIGHT TONIGHT, OR YOUR DAUGHTER WILL -DIE!-
MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
     Spoongirl and Sporkboy looked at each other. "Uh oh..." they
chorused.
     "AND DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT HAVING THE POLICE INTERFERE! OH... AND
COULD YOU STOP OFF AND PICK UP A FEW HUNDRED DOUGHNUTS ON THE WAY OVER?
YOUR DAUGHTER'S EATING US OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME, HERE."
     "YAY, DOUGHNUTS!" exclaimed a second voice.
     "AquaRegia!!" Spoongirl gasped.
     "Oh no... my cousin!" Sporkboy clenched his fists. "The most totally
evil woman in the universe has kidnapped my cousin!" He blinked. "That...
sounds really silly."
     "Maybe so, but it's true." Spoongirl looked thoughtful. "I need to
find Dad. Fast."
     "I'm coming with you!" Sporkboy insisted. Spoongirl looked at him
for a moment, then nodded.
     "Fine. Just don't get in my way," she said, turning and dashing off.
     "HEY!" came AquaRegia's loudspeaker-enhanced voice from overhead.
"CAN YOU PICK UP SOME FUDGESICLES ON THE WAY OVER, TOO?"
     "FUDGESICLES, YAY!" enthused another voice. Spoongirl skidded to
a halt, causing Sporkboy, who was sprinting to keep up, to slam into her
and knock the two of them down.
     "That was Trea! That new kid!" Spoongirl's eyes narrowed. "She and
Kate must be hostages of Admiral Morgan, too!" She clenched her fists.
"This is worse than I thought... come on, already!"

<----->

     And it was, indeed, worse than Nanc-- "SPOONGIRL!!!" --right... had
thought...
     In a Motel 6 at the edge of town, Dana Wader carefully cut open a
large cardboard box. Now, that sentence right there leaves a lot of
information out, if you think about it. The first question, of course, is
'How did Dana Wader get from the middle of a lake to the edge of Dillweed?'
The answer of course, is obvious. Plot contrivance. Er, wait, no, that's
not it. Oh, nevermind, you know what I mean. The second question is
'What the heck is in that box?', which we'll answer in the immediately
following piece of exposition.
     Dana grinned coldly to herself as she buckled on the new battle
bikini that she'd gotten shipped in (See?). "Abandoned warehouse at
the south side of town, huh?" she said, chuckling as she clipped weapons
onto her suit. "I'll get to kill Morgan... -and- Spoonman!" With an evil
laugh, she tested her plasma projector, shattering the walls of the motel
room. "Revenge is sweet... sweet... -sweet-! And Morgan is gonna die,
die, die! Bwahahahahaha--" Dana's laugh was cut short as she heard a
groaning noise above her and realized that by blowing out the walls, she
had sort of compromised the structure that was holding up that big heavy
thing over her, to whit, the ceiling. "...oopsie..."

WILL SPOONGIRL AND SPORKBOY BE ABLE TO SAVE AQUAREGIA???
WILL DANA WADER DIG HERSELF OUT OF THE RUBBLE IN TIME TO JOIN IN THE
   OBLIGATORY FIGHT SCENE NEXT EPISODE???
"...you guys hate me (ow) don't you..."
YES! HERE, HAVE AN ANVIL.
"...i want my agent! i'm a star, dammi--" *WHONG*
AHEM.
WILL MORGAN AND CREW BE ABLE TO KEEP ASTATINE FROM EATING EVERYTHING IN
   THE SHIP???
"Yay, toothpaste!" "Get her out of there!"
AND WHO -WAS- THAT PERSON IN THE OPENING SCENE???

Find out next week, on another edition of Sixty Seconds.