|The Story||The Authors|
Nikolai sensing trouble immediately fled for higher ground. Little
tables and chairs flew willy-nilly as J O'D burst across the stage.
All was chaos. The monkey equivilant of Polly Peachum swung across
the room swinging from stalagmite to stalagmite until finally attaining
a safe perch atop Tongor's bald pate. Tongor kept right on playing
without missing a beat. J O'D grabbed at Bertold and the offending
peanut, but wee Bertold was not to be deprived of his prize so easily.
With claws to the fore he flung himself at the director and scratched
his nose quite badly before fleeing to a safer corner to devour his
The Great Genius blew his stack. "I'll get you for that you wretched little beast! By the bones of my great Irish ancestors, I'll pay you back in full!"
He began throwing whatever he could get his hands on at the now cowering Gibbon. Empty Four Roses pints, tiny chairs, obscure surrealist manifestos, his much treasured copy of The Portable Neitsche. Room was a malestrom of screeching simian's and the incessant clang of Tongor's piano. Pere Peachum and Lucy Brown were doing those things that monkeys will do in public atop the bar.
At this Roger decided he ought to make his exit.
|He started to run in a panic down the first tunnel on his left. He didn't care where it led, he only knew that he had to get away from these freakish characters. The paranoia was overtaking Roger. It was like the worst acid trip of his life. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. And where was that goddamned Pope? He was the one who started this whole fucking nightmare. "And you're a homosapien too!" he heard himself shout for no apparent reason. He kept running and he felt as if his lungs would burst. He was on the verge of collapse when he saw a dark figure in the tunnel before him. He slowed his run to a jog until he could make out who it was. Then he realized it was Anita and he ran to her. He fell to his knees at her feet, groveling shamelessly. "Anita! I'm so glad it's you." he sobbed. "Man, I ate some rancid giraffe meat and I've been having a bad trip ever since. Help me!" he pleaded.|
|Anita looked down at his quivering body and let out a deep, sinister laugh.She grinned as she pulled the revolver from her pocket.|
|Good old aunt Millie! She hat loaded the fine thing with coockies, as she always did, when Anita was involved in tricky circumstances.|
Even under these circumstances Roger found that to be a rather odd
thing for Anita to say, especially so with a revolver in her hand.
Anita broke into a manic grin. There was a rather pregnant pause.
Anita giggled. Anita giggled again. The second giggle seemed to emanate
from the area slightly below Anita's belt. Roger gulped.|
Anita took a wobbly step towards him. Roger stepped back. Another step forward. Another step back. Anita took one more uneven step forward catching the hem of her skirt with her shoe. Her dress fell away.
In fact all of Anita fell away revealing Thing One standing on thing Two's shoulders and both giggling mercilessly.
Continue you must
Your adventure's not done
But to continue this quest
you will need this gun
A closer inspection
will reveal the direction
Just remember be chaste as a nun
With that they handed Roger the pistol and scampered off into the darkeness.
|And then Kristi, Dianne, Bitzy, and Vashondra came back. "Come on" they said "we still have to get Janice's remote control!"|
|Roger stood for a moment staring blankly at the weapon. Good Lord! he thought Pope John Paul Georeandringo II hadn't mentioned anything about possible fisticuffs. And he still needed to find a way out of this wretched place. heaving a gut wrenching sigh, Roger set about hunting down those elusive intials that would lead him to the next part of his journey.|
|He tucked the revolver into his belt and continued down the dark tunnel. He still understand why he was on this journey or even what he was looking for. Perhaps there was a clue in the very name for which the initials stood. Arnie Sachnusem. Arnie must be short for Arnold, he thought. Arnold Sachnusem. Roger stopped and wrote the name in the dirt on the cave floor. He wrote it backwards, Dlonra Mesunhcas. He wondered if that could mean anything. He tried mixing up the letters. Near chasm in use. This doesn't make any sense, he thought, kicking at the letters he'd scrawled in the dust. He continued down the tunnel a short way until his path ended in a great chasm.|