Spacebullies Two: The Search For More Parody

Rejoining "Dark Headgear"

Slick Mudpackis the down-side adept, and Perry Kusshun the mega-mothership veteran, joined seven more former members of the destroyed planet-killer ship, to board a far less impressive starship-- but, importantly, one with high-grade faster-than-light capability. Other down-side sympathizers had cleared the way for them, by distracting the new administration's law officers with another protest march against representative government.

Slick identified the highest-ranking, and technologically most important, of his veterans: Lieutenant Krayzee Fireflaw, who had been the mega-mothership's assistant engineering officer. The man who had been her nominal supervisor had been a political appointee, a dimwitted nephew of Bob Snooze; consequently, Krayzee had been expected to undo his blunders constantly, without ever denouncing him. Slick had been compelled on two occasions to use his mind-over-matter power to prevent her from applying a wrench to the useless chief engineer's head.

Krayzee was so grateful to Slick for keeping her out of trouble on those two occasions, that she would repair his action figures when anything damaged them, without telling any other crew members that she had seen him playing with them.

Now, reunited with her benefactor, she snapped to attention. "Lord Headgear! What are your orders?"

"If you have the fuel for it, we need to beeline for the Sorghum system: to their asteroid belt, and land on Expansive Asteroid Base."

Krayzee nodded. "So we can use the supplies of minerals extracted from asteroids to begin the work of building a new mega-mothership?"

"That, eventually. But the immediate need is to find a gang of space-thieves and spies whom I've hired in the past to perform dirty deeds cheaply. They're in danger of being arrested-- by an up-side Fuss master who's almost as powerful as Master Yoga-Rug."

"Master Moose Windchime?" interjected one of the men.

"Just about as bad," replied Slick. "Mopey-One Kanoli. While he was on Planet Spacebull recently, he did some detective work; I don't know any details, but he found out that friends of ours could be caught at Expansive." Slick neglected to mention that he himself, when interrogated by Mopey-One, had carelessly dropped the fact of Expansive being a hideout for evildoers. He went on: "If we can save our friends from being imprisoned, they'll be valuable additions to our crew."

Another man asked, "Will we try to overthrow Jean Yuss here on Spacebull, or go hit other planets?"

"Other planets for now. Certain allies of ours have plans to humble the Directvideans; we'll need to stay available for possible intervention there."
 
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Mopey-One Kanoli, however, had a large head start on Slick and his team. Piloting a lightspeed-capable model of A-Frame fighter-bomber, he was accompanied by a BB-Gun style cuteness-robot, which he had named Eight-Ball. He had acquired this droid at a marvellously low price, because on every planet where the design had gone on the market, stores were practically having to give them away.

At least Eight-Ball could monitor communications. As soon as Mopey-One's ship dropped out of hyperactivity, the baseball-on-soccerball robot would commence a scan of all comms frequencies, according to search parameters the up-side master had entered into it.

Meanwhile, Mopey-One indulged in bittersweet thoughts about his apprentice, Acne-Skin. As the most promising pattycake-awan the up-side order had seen since Yoga-Rug had been the equivalent of a thirty-year-old human, Acne-Skin had absorbed everything Mopey-One could teach him, and had improved on it. The only way in which Mopey-One had remained superior to Acne-Skin had been in the attribute which no one can acquire merely by mastering martial skills: wisdom. But that was a huge difference.

At the very time when the evil galactic politician Porkanbeen had been gaining control over the Republic of Lots of Worlds, Acne-Skin had married an honest female politician, Poormee Armadillo. When she conceived twin babies, Porkanbeen had proven just HOW devoid of wisdom the young up-side adept was-- by convincing Acne-Skin that Poormee would die in childbirth UNLESS Acne-Skin joined the down-side and started murdering people.

At this crucial juncture, one vital deviation from a well-known parallel narrative had occurred. Mopey-One's deceased master, Quite-A-Guy Jim, had acquired the ability to manifest as a Fuss Ghost SOONER than in the other plotline. At a moment when Acne-Skin was closing his eyes and humming loudly to avoid hearing any truth, Quite-A-Guy had appeared inside the young idiot's head, forcing him to hear these words:

"Listen to these words inside your head, young idiot! Pre-spaceflight civilizations, people still using internal combustion engines, have saved pregnant women from dying in childbirth! And they achieved this without anyone having to murder noble peacekeepers. Would a galactic civilization be LESS likely to know obstetrics? Can you seriously believe Porkandbeen when he says Poormee will die in childbirth if you don't murder up-side Fuss users? I should have left you on Tantrumine!"

Good old Quite-A-Guy had made the difference. Acne-Skin coming to his senses was too late to prevent SOME up-siders from being assassinated under Order Pick-Up-Sticks. It was during this chaos that the up-side hero Klayman Jitters had died saving Noherra and Fizzra. But there still had been more up-side survivors than there would have been without Quite-A-Guy's intervention.

With Acne-Skin belatedly getting a clue, it had been much more feasible to move against the would-be Emperor than in that other plotline. Count Spooky and General Greenrust were living, and Porkandbeen had plenty more of those barely-explained guards in red cloaks; but the up-siders were stronger also. In the grand battle which had prevented many later calamities from ever occurring, it had been Porkanbeen, Spooky, Greenrust, a tall, beautiful-but-evil Popquizzitor named Sweetslayer, two Banjolorian gunmen of much worse character than Dim Jargon, thirty clone warriors, and a dozen of the red-cloaked whatever-they-were.... against Yoga-Rug, Acne-Skin, Moose Windchime, Mopey-One, Nonsmoka, a non-human Fuss adept named Ekspen-Dubbul, a young Lackdough Carribiyan armed with a heavy plasma rifle, four soldiers from Poormee's native world of Kantpoo all wearing red shirts, three towering hairy Wowzees (of a species closely related to the race of Groan Starr's co-pilot), and eleven up-side apprentices above age ten who were alive because Quite-A-Guy had gotten Acne-Skin turned back to the light.

In the end, major figures on the side of evil had suffered nearly one hundred percent casualties. Admiral Thuglife Skrawn, Sweetslayer and the two evil Banjolorians had escaped, while two of the red-cloaked oddballs and three of the clone warriors had surrendered. The side of good had lost Ekspen-Dubbul, two apprentices, all four Kantpoolites, the three Wowzees because they were targets too large for anyone to miss with a gunshot.... and Acne-Skin.

Escaping the disgrace of being so stupid as to listen to anything Porkanbeen said, Acne-Skin had gone out in a blaze of glory, taking the would-be emperor out with him. The Republic had survived. Poormee, though now a widow, HAD NOT died of grief, because the love between herself and Acne-Skin had not been ruined by the down-side. And the children of Poormee and Acne-Skin, Duke and Dana, born safely, would have the comfort of knowing that their departed father HAD NOT changed into a fiend who would happily blow up an entire inhabited planet just to make a point.
 
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Expansive Asteroid Base was the largest economic resource of the Sorghum system. Barnum, the system's terrestroid planet, was not any version of Earth; it had been colonized by humans less than a century ago. In case the reader hasn't figured this out yet, starflight-capable human societies could co-exist with copies of early-21st-century Earth because parody.

(More will be said about this eventually, since your sometimes-humble narrator has long been intrigued by the shifting relationships between actual human experience and made-up stories. Meanwhile, I invite you to check out my short story "Hopecrushers of Dune," which was a prototype for the current much-longer saga. --C'FOX)

Expansive was located on Hatpin, the largest body in Sorghum's asteroid belt, large enough to qualify as a dwarf planet. For the benefit of readers who aren't into authentic astronomy, a dwarf planet is a solid celestial object large enough that its own mass forces it into a regular spheroid shape, yet not large enough to have as great a gravitational influence on other objects as a "true" planet has. The Asteroid Base was called what it was because it oversaw mining along the whole asteroid belt.... and because most inhabitants of the Sorghum system weren't into authentic astronomy either.

Hatpin was large enough that, to support its mineral-extraction industry, it could and did accommodate many airtight habitats besides those directly connected to the mining business. This included farming domes maintained under contract by agricultural experts from Kantpoo. The Kantpoolites being fanatical vegetarians, the chief protein source they produced for the dwarf planer's workforce was a plant-protein sandwich known as the Unpalatable Burger. Lackdough Carribiyan, the sometime businessman, sometime gambler and sometime smuggler who had been on Mopey-One's side in the battle to save the Republic, had thereafter gone back to his gambler and businessman roles.

The planetary government of Kantpoo had given Lackdough a hefty cash reward, in appreciation of his having personally slain the bad guys who killed the Kantpoolite redshirts in the final battle for the Republic of Lots of Worlds. Investing this money intelligently in the Sorghum system, Lackdough had established a casino resort on Hatpin, the only place of its kind on the dwarf planet or indeed in the whole belt. Advertising "The Cloud Suburb Casino" on the story-galaxy's equivalent of broadcast television, he had come as near as he dared to boasting that he had won the whole war against Porkandbeen single-handedly. Master Yoga-Rug, and other up-side masters of The Fuss, had given him to understand that they would not hold this against him, provided that he ran only clean games, and that he never disrespected the cherished memory of the fallen heroes Acne-Skin, Klayman and Ekspen-Dubbul. It had been pointed out to Lackdough that enjoying the goodwill of top Fuss masters would be great public relations for his business. Honest casual gamblers, when made aware that the casino was often visited by psionically-gifted heroes who could infallibly expose cheaters, would be encouraged to visit Cloud Suburb often, assured that they would never be ripped off.

The widowed Poormee Armadillo, Nonsmoka Tiptoe, Noherra Synthmusica, and other tough-girl types, had added a wrinkle of their own: they would be friendly to Lackdough's establishment provided that, for all his card games, he made Queens the highest cards in the deck.

These conditions had proven acceptable for the entrepreneur. He honestly did respect up-siders of The Fuss; he was a sufficiently skilled and intuitive gambler that he was capable of winning games of chance most of the time without cheating; and he had always found it was to his own advantage not to annoy women more often than he had to. In fact, there was only one matter in which he firmly put his foot down where women were concerned. In the virtual-reality section of his gaming spaces, female players were NOT permitted to be thirteen-year-old princesses riding horses on lonely quests which no mere adult could hope to understand.

Right now, sharing a table with six fellow card-sharps from six different species, Lackdough was about to win again, without cheating. In his hand he held the Queen of Starships, the Queen of Lasers, the Queen of Helmets, the Queen of Droids, and the Queen of Crystals: the top cards of all five suits. He was about to display his hand in triumph-- when Snidemouth, his protocol robot, hurried up to him and spoke in a language that no flesh-and-blood being in the room knew except Lackdough.

Lackdough sighed, then addressed the players at the table: "Friends, an urgent matter has just come up. We shall now terminate the game, with everyone keeping the money they have right now. And this will show you that you suffer no harm by my stopping play without playing my last hand." Then he showed them his five Queens. The others were grateful to be let off the hook, and would all speak well of Cloud Suburb to tourists in the future.

Accompanying Snidemouth to his private office, Lackdough sat down at his galactic-radio console.

"Mopey-One, Lackdough here. What's happening?"
 
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In the dining room of the casino sat sixteen humans: nine men and seven women. These were the henchpersons with whom Slick Mudpackis was hoping to join up. One of the men, Zoot Booter by name, was perusing electronic devices camouflaged as costume jewelry. Like Lackdough's robot, Zoot Booter and his comrades possessed the advantage of knowing a language which no eavesdropper would know; a language so little-known that even a translation device might not be able to translate it.

"I can't decrypt the voice transmission, but the frequency, modulation and pulse intervals are consistent with communications used by the forces of good. Since President Snooze got overthrown, our side's been on the run; and we probably picked a bad planet to hide out on--"

"A bad dwarf planet," interrupted Grammurnatzia, the eldest and most annoying of the female crooks.

"A dwarf planet which you recommended," Zoot retorted. "And you would have made us all paupers, if I hadn't won back most of what you lost at the Cometary Roulette games."

Another of the male crooks, known as Bongbunk, was fonder of Grammurnatzia than anyone else in the gang was. He told Zoot, "The way that you regained the money was by using my winnings from dodecahedral dice."

"Be that as it may," put in Melodica, the youngest of the female crooks, "Zoot is right to worry that we might be netted in the clean-up operation against us evildoers. Given that Mister Carribiyan is friendly with up-siders, I wouldn't give good odds betting that Yoga-Rug or someone like him isn't on the way here now."

Trying to appear casual, the sixteen thugs and thuggesses rose from their seats, to start for the exit which would lead to the visitors' ship-landng area. But they had barely made it halfway across the dining hall before a sturdy, bald-headed black man with a sardonic smile appeared in their path.

"Leaving so soon, folks? My friend Mopey-One would be terribly disappointed if he didn't have the chance to interview you all about your career highlights. And I'd be disappointed if I never had the chance to play blues guitar for you."

"Who is he?" Melodica asked Zoot.

Zoot breathed a deep we're-toast sigh. "That's Master Moose Windchime."

The famous and feared up-side master smiled a more mellow smile. "Correct. But the good news is that I promise to be very expedient with you if you all surrender peacefully, without endangering any of these innocent people." On the off chance that Master Windchime needed any backup, Lackdough's own security guards were closing in on both flanks, as honest customers tried to move away in a hurry.

"You mean to say that you'll be lenient with us," declared Grammurnatzia. "At least, that's what I hope you mean."

"Yes, that's what I mean."

The crooks all surrendered meekly.
 
Six green-skinned non-humans of the Greedork species (much less human-like than the Tryyurlucks) blessed their luck that they had not yet begun their planned meeting with Zoot Booter to discuss joining his gang, and evacuated the room along with the honest people. The human crooks had just handed over their hidden weapons..... when the game changed abruptly.

The young woman Melodica found her mouth opening painfully wide without her own volition. Out of her mouth gushed a green mist or gas-- a shade of green different from the skins of Toofah-Roffians, Tryyurlucks or Greedorks. As Melodica collapsed into a chair, the gas turned into a solid life-form, so hideous that no sentient race in the universe could fail to be horrified by the sight of it. Any living eye seemed unable to endure focusing on the unnatural being; but it had numerous tentacles.

"I am the eldritch anti-god Kuth-Hula-Hoop!" rumbled a jarring voice. "I will not permit goodness to prosper;" and the thing's tentacles extended, meaning to seize Moose Windchime. But Master Windchime was helped in this emergency by a special Fuss talent which only he possessed: the Sense of Shatterplace. This plotline-convenient gift enabled him to recognize crucial moments in any situation-- and to detect the weakest part of any adversary. Before Kuth-Hula-Hoop's tentacles could grab and crush him, the up-side master thrust his ring-generated lightsaber into the equivalent of an armpit, under the base of one tentacle.

A scream almost too high to be heard filled the dining room, staggering the already-scared casino guards. Kuth-Hula-Hoop was not slain, but at least appeared to be weakened. Moose Windchime's Fuss ring, however, was broken at the same time, its lightsaber vanishing; and the up-sider found he could not immediately self-generate any more power to fend off his enemy without the ring. Slowly now, almost feebly, but with hatred undiminished, the monster advanced again toward the good guy. The robot Snidemouth tried to defend Moose, whose identity it knew, but Kuth-Hula-Hoop tore its head off with an undamaged tentacle.

The casino guards were paralyzed by terror; but Lackdough Carribiyan kept his presence of mind. Overcoming his own fear, the dashing-rogue type came close, and fired a laser pistol point-blank into the same spot Master Windchime had wounded. Kuth-Hula-Hoop still did not collapse, and Lackdough's gun also broke into pieces; but the "eldritch anti-god," for its own part, was further weakened. Moose Windchime sensed another, non-material Shatterplace: although Kuth-Hula-Hoop was almost impossible to kill, those who found the bravery to defy it for good purpose could at least discourage it.

"You two found the bravery to defy me for good purpose, and you have discouraged me," the fiend growled. "But no mortal man can slay me-- nor can a woman assisted by a hobbit, so there! And as I leave, I shall take away with me some new recruits for my own cause, including those Greedorks who sneaked out."

Almost before Kuth-Hula-Hoop finished its words, the Greedorks came flying back into the dining room, to land in a heap right among the human criminals. "You are now my minions," Kuth-Hula-Hoop announced. "I will not promise not to devour you alive eventually; but if I do devour you, I do promise that I will do it less painfully than I shall do to good guys like those two."

A plotline-convenient gruesome, swirling gateway-to-evil-dimension sort of thing appeared near the anti-god. A different but equally repellent inhuman voice called out from the mystical tunnel's depths: "HEY, KUTH-HULA-HOOP! INEXORABLE TRASH AND SOREHEADMORT WANT TO KNOW IF YOU'RE COMING TO THE BARBECUE."

Kuth-Hula-Hoop shouted back, "Hold on, Screendoormammu, I'll be there in a minute! But the mortals I'm bringing along are not on the menu! I want them as cannon fodder against superheroes." The criminals, human and otherwise, tottered or slid toward the opening, not seeming to be as frightened as they had been. But one gang member, happening to be nearer to Moose than the others were, seemed not to move as quickly toward the opening as the others were moving. This was Melodica, the very one from whose lungs Kuth-Hula-Hoop had emerged.

Another Shatterplace intuition came to the Fuss master, but the readers of this story had already figured it out: Melodica was important to the story arc, well duh. Diving toward Melodica, Moose pulled her away from the evil nexus-vortex-whatever. The fiend, satisfied that Zoot and the rest were going into the dimensional opening without resisting, tried to retrieve the young woman; but Lackdough had grabbed up the dropped blaster of a security guard, and now gave Kuth-Hula-Hoop a third burn in the same damaged armpit. Grunting in pain, and writing off the loss of one minion, the anti-god made its exit.

"What was that ugly thing?" asked Lackdough. His answer came, not from the Fuss master, but from the girl Melodica (who, not coincidentally, looked exactly like the real-world actress Cristina Ricci who co-starred with the real-world Samuel L. Jackson in the unconventional movie "Black Snake Moan").

"Kuth-Hula-Hoop is the other side of the bitcoin from subtle, indirect villains. It represents the smug, self-assured certainty that good is dumb and evil is cool. Without giving any details which might embarrass me, upset the Mods, or make the readers dislike me, I'll confess that I became a vessel for the anti-god because I was idiotic enough to imagine that evil WAS cool." She drew near to Master Windchime. "Sir, is there any chance that you could help me find redemption and healing through the power of the blues and the transcendence of an unlikely friendship?"

"If my nanotechnical expansion capsule still is working...." Less than a minute later, Moose Windchime had produced an acoustic guitar from someplace, and was tuning it carefully.

"Yes, young lady, blues music in the right hands DOES have power against evil."

It was left to Lackdough to contact the still-enroute Mopey-One Kanoli and let him know what had happened.
 
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Change of scene

On the pretty ordinary Earth where the band Skinny Leopard existed, other musicians were quick to see the significance of Skinny Leopard using an apparent hologram show to announce a policy change in their songwriting. One artist who took especially keen interest in this development lived in Stockholm, Norway.

That's right, I said Stockholm, NORWAY. This Earth had undergone six or seven big variations in its history as opposed to Original Earth: enough to make for intriguing alternate events without even requiring any comicbook characters to be real here. The earliest and arguably largest departure from original human history had occurred in the 17th century, when Kampuchea (Cambodia) conquered Thailand, Burma and Laos, and held them for the next thirty-eight years. What would later be known as Vietnam, consisting then of the three separate kingdoms of Tonkin, Annam and Cochin (just as in our own history), was marginalized by the Kampuchean empire, and so never became as important in history as the Vietnam of Original Earth. The differing fortunes of the alternate Vietnam counted as part of the significance of Kampuchea's military successes.

The most recent of the major variances had been the terrible disaster of pizza-makers worldwide refusing to put pineapple on pizza. But the NEXT- to-latest alteration on this Earth had taken place during World War Two. In this World War Two, as on Original Earth, Sweden had refused to fight against the Nazis, while Norway did fight them. But on THIS alternate world, great numbers of Swedes had grown disgusted at their own government for not helping the free peoples of Earth to resist fascism. In consequence, as soon as the Nazis were defeated, tens of thousands of Swedish citizens had commenced a movement asking Norway to take over the governance of Sweden. The movement had grown exponentially; after all, those opposing the annexation in Sweden were the same people who had refused to fight the Germans, and were even less inclined to fight fellow Swedes.

By the time rock music was invented, Sweden was being governed from Oslo, Norway; and since Norwegians and Swedes had been telling the exact same ethnic jokes about each other for centuries, they got along together with very little animosity.

A Swedish girl born in the combined Norway-Sweden during the final years of this Earth's twentieth century proved to be the most rapturously beautiful dark-haired Scandinavian girl ever to exist on any Earth; yes, there ARE ethnic Scandinavians who AREN'T blondes. In other words, this girl was a parallel version of real-world heavy-metal singer Madeleine Liljestam, who is also better-looking than most of the blondes.

This other Madeleine Liljestam, upon hearing what Skinny Leopard had done in America, told her male musicians, "We're going to do that too! We're going to record songs which promote marriage, parenting, and permanent love!"

So they did, and it was a success.

The singing group Abba did not exist on this Earth, which was a loss for this Earth. Accordingly, the parallel Madeleine Liljestam would fill the Abba gap, giving this world songs and videos which argued that genuine love and normal relationships were both desirable and possible. Very early in this process, she corresponded via social media with the members of Skinny Leopard in America, brainstorming how they might assist each other in spreading the word of relational optimism.

This done, a related idea came to Madeleine. On this Earth, as on the Original Earth which was unknown to the this-planet Madeleine Liljestam, there were venerable old blues guitarists who still had their instrumental talent, but who could not STAND UP unassisted if their lives depended on it. Men or women belonging to this category could be a great resource for events promoting blues-rock-metal fusion.... if it could be made physically comfortable for the aged performers.

Messaging an orthopedic-equipment manufacturing firm in this Earth's Oslo, Madeleine placed a rush order for the construction of a wheelchair whose design would facilitate the user playing a guitar while seated.
 
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Despite being plagued with a computer which LOVES to delete his writings for no reason when he's just BARELY short of posting them, Copperfox WILL now prove his powers of memory, by reconstructing the substance of what his TRAITOR laptop spitefully erased.

One benign peculiarity of the music scene on Skinny Leopard's Earth was that some prominent 20th-century blues artists had achieved longer lifespans than their Original Earth counterparts. One such musician was the this-planet version of Stevie Ray Vaughn. Stevie became the first, and far from the last, American blues musician to offer collaboration with Skinny Leopard in creating albums which would praise loyalty, tenderness, patience and honesty in relationships.

In fact, watching this musical sea-change from up in Aslan's Country, some of the angels remarked to Clive Staples Lewis that artists on Skinny Leopard's Earth were rediscovering the same relationship truths which Mister Lewis had analyzed in his book "The Four Loves."

Skinny Leopard's lead singer, a version of Joe Elliot from Def Leppard on Original Earth, enthusiastically welcomed Stevie.

"Since the night when we, um, announced our change of direction...." (Mister Elliot was avoiding the subject of the friendly extraterrestrial Drool, since he and his bandmates were at a loss to figure out what had recently brought Drool's translucent likeness to their concert venue) "....it's been great hearing from talent in the blues community. It's like puzzle pieces falling into place. The second day after our announcement, I talked with the bass player of a show-opener band, a black man. His band was metal, not blues; but as soon as I told him we were interested in working with blues talent, he perked up and told me about his great-great-aunt, who's almost a hundred years old. Her name is LaVern--"

"--BAKER!" Stevie finished, perking up in his turn. "She started performing before the Second World War; attracted white listeners to the rhythm and blues genre. The bass player says that she can't sing anymore, and she's wheelchair-bound. But her mind still is mostly clear; she could speak to the fans about her career, and the greats she knew in the blues community." (Being a native of THIS Earth, not knowing there was any other Earth, Joe Elliot of Skinny Leopard had no way of knowing that the primary LaVern Baker on the primary Earth had passed away more than fifteen years ago.)

Billy Powell-- which is to say, the Billy Powell of this Earth, whose alter-ego on Original Earth had played piano for Lynyrd Skynyrd-- shared his own information. "I've been following a weblog for fans of Jimi Hendrix...." (The Jimi Hendrix of this Earth had succeeded in NOT dying young; he still was living, though also wheelchair-bound; and he naturally had accumulated a far larger body of work than the original Jimi Hendrix.) "Jimi posted an update for the subscribers, about his own health. He still can't walk, and his voice is still very weak; but his hand coordination has recovered plenty. He estimates that now he can play the easier two-thirds of his old guitar licks well enough to please his followers."

Joe Elliot looked at Stevie. "Since you're known to be a great admirer of Mister Hendrix, fans will accept it if he PLAYS two or three songs of his, while you supply the vocals. Just that much will give Mister Hendrix a satisfying moment in the lights: enough impact to generate enthusiasm for new projects. After the live and remote audiences have enjoyed their helping of nostalgia, Miss Baker can hold them with her speech."

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

Eighteen days later, everyone involved was at the media complex in Stockholm. Three thousand fans were there in person as a live audience, their presence decided by a lottery. Millions more were watching by broadcast and streaming. Madeleine Liljestam and her band played the warmup consisting of seven songs: melodies already recognizable from her repertoire, but now using words which praised genuine, unselfish love. The lights went dark after the seventh song, and the spectators were given enough time of silence to reflect, if they would, on why Madeleine had used her same unchanged hard voice to sing idea-content which belonged in fluffy pop songs.

When the lights came back up to reveal this Earth's Jimi Hendrix in his customized chair, while this Earth's Stevie Ray Vaughn stood behind Jimi in a softer light, and an impersonal amplified voice identified both men, everyone watching felt the sense of cultural history in progress. At the moment, fewer than a quarter of the viewers were thinking about what Skinny Leopard and Madeleine were hoping to accomplish; but soon they would be.

Unable any longer to sing, Jimi SPOKE the words of "Purple Haze," with all of the inflection he could give them. Then he focused exclusively on playing his guitar. Stevie came in singing the lyrics for him. Even audience members unfamiliar with rhythm and blues were captivated. Unlike the performance by Madeleine Liljestam's band, the set by Jimi and Stevie did not change any existing lyrics. When they finished, the lights on Jimi went off, while there still were lights on Stevie. Stage hands in black coveralls crept up and made sure Jimi was moved safely offstage. There was no dismissive disrespect in this; Jimi would get to do an instrumental encore by himself in the finale of the show.

Stevie gave a short transitional speech about LaVern Baker's career, because this Earth's LaVern Baker was not so universally remembered and recognized as this Earth's Jimi Hendrix was. When Stevie concluded, his spot faded out, and lights came up on LaVern Baker. Top-quality microphones and speakers made her weak voice intelligible all over the media complex.

"Hello, dear new friends. I thank you for coming. I thank remote viewers for viewing. I thank the performers for performing, and the planners for planning. I thank the advertisers for investing; and I thank God for allowing me to live to be part of this event. All of you have heard people saying that music expreesses more than words can express. But you can't even SAY that music expresses more than words, without USING words to say so.

"When Madeleine sang her excellent songs, her fans will have noticed that her words were far more kindly and thoughttful than is usual for a metal concert. The music, including her voice, was as hard and jolting as ever; but what she sang ABOUT was uplifting, reassuring and inspiring.

"Raise your hand if you think that a deliberately belligerent, hard-edged voice is the wrong voice to sing a comforting song about love and kindness.....

"Okay, as far as my old eyes can tell, more than half of you raised your hands. Back to school, everyone! The task of singers and storytellers IS to communicate. And what they communicate often concerns the very things which decent people hold to be hurtful . You can't always hide from trouble or outrun it; but the blues helps you to endure it.

"If this isn't overreaching, I'll say that blues music regularly is accused of being 'negative,' as if every blues artist performing a song which mentions misfortune is therefore wishing the misfortune TO HAPPEN to other people. But for me, the blues is like a social medium invented before there were any social media. The blues is a platform, from whch we hear the message that we can handle things."

LaVern was in what might be compared to a runner's high. Not because her speech was in any way superhuman, but because she was leading the audience toward the place of generosity. The good-natured young woman would make them understand that blues music could enable the carrying out of the Biblical call to "Weep with those who weep."
 
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On the following morning, this Earth's Madeleine Liljestam caught a train to Oslo. Travel on this Earth was easier than on Original Earth, because on this Earth, the biggest, most iron-fisted tyranny HAD NOT unleashed a laboratory-raised respiratory-disease virus, and then played innocent.

Madeleine was returning to the company which had built the special wheelchair for the benefit of this Earth's Jimi Hendrix. It looked as if more geriatric blues performers would be getting on board with the pro-true-love project, and it certainly would help if they possessed custom wheelchairs which facilitated instrument playing. Meanwhile, children and grandchildren of the celebrities were also turning up. During her talk with the owner of the wheelchair business, texts came in from descendants of this world's versions of Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Etta James, Bessie Smith, Papa John Creach and Otis Redding.

Meanwhile, the Stevie Ray Vaughn of this Earth flew back to the U.S.A., where he began meeting with show-business reporters and critics, including writers from this Earth's version of Rolling Stone Magazine. This world's "Rolling Stone" had frequently published articles about Skinny Leopard, including a report of "The Announcement." The assembled journalists at first seemed purely enthusiastic for the promotion of true love; but eventually, it began looking more as if they wanted to TELL HIM how this project should go.

Stevie decided to try a test.

The programming on modern television was nearly identical to programming on Original Earth. Not that Stevie had any clue about Original Earth media, but he knew the preferences of this-planet broadcasting executives. Accordingly, keeping a straight face, he said to a table-full of male and female journalists:

"I hope you all realize where we are going to meet opposition. You've all seen the situation comedies and action shows on all the networks these days. Women are ALWAYS portrayed as weak, stupid and inferior, while MEN are always portrayed as brilliant, unbeatable and infalliible. It's just glaringly obvious: we'll get nowhere promoting true love until we defeat the patriarchy!"

The reporters, knowing perfectly well that Stevie was lying, fell all over themselves in haste to agree with him. OF COURSE the ubiquitous patriarchy was the problem; OF COURSE the entertainment industry, right at this very moment, was guilty of never ever permitting any television show or movie to feature EVEN ONE powerful female character. It would therefore be necessary, in an UNPRECEDENTED change, to begin FINALLY depicting a few male characters who weren't impossibly perfect. Only when every woman was believed at all times on every subject, no matter what she said, would it be possible to encourage true love.

This made Stevie aware of how much "help" he, Skinny Leopard and Madeleine Liljestam could expect from the news media.

On his way out of the building, Stevie held a door open for a woman. She cursed him for trying to restrict her movements.
 
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Revisiting Seedubb

With major ground having been gained against evil on Seedubb Earth, Santiago the animal rescuer had the leisure to talk and visit with Luchador Hidalgo and many other superheroes. His enjoyments included a fascinating visit under the Atlantic Ocean, accompanied by Aquaticman, Princess Reelnyce, Beef Boy, and Irish North, to visit King Ragu of the Fishfolk. Learning that Santiago came from a different Earth, Ragu took pains to provide information about enviromental-protection methods which the teenager could carry back to his own Earth. "You can use your own judgment about whether you tell people where you got the data, just so your people do receive the information."

"Your Majesty is wise and thoughtful," said Santiago. "If I told people back at home how I actually obtained this information, some would say I was muy loco. Then others, who really were crazy, would jump on the information as the basis to create some ridiculous cult."

"Then how do you figure to handle it?" asked Irish.

"I think I'll join a science-fiction fan group on our internet: one which includes genuine scientists, or at least college students majoring in the sciences. Then I'll start writing stories about a noble and virtuous mer-people king who devises plans to remedy oceanic pollution."

Listening to this, Aquaticman released a sigh. "I suppose you'll say in your stories that all the environmental damage is done by evil business corporations."

The boy gave the ocean-boss a look of understanding. "If I'd written the stories when I was nine years old, si, I would have made privately-owned businesses the whole reason for all the problems, because that's what ALL the movies say on my Earth. Do you have a movie called 'Waterworld' on your Earth?"

"No, but I can already guess what its message must have been."

"Right: the petroleum industry destroys all civilization. A movie produced and directed by people who fly in private jets, but who want all the peones riding bicycles. And until recently, Cousin Cora and I would have accepted the whole message without question. But just weeks before my encounter with the Prankymon creature who sent me to another planet, I learned that on my Earth, countries with government-controlled economies cause MORE pollution than countries with free enterprise."

"Glad to hear you say it," remarked Irish. "It's the same way on this Earth, but no one wants to admit it."

Two days later, when the time came for Doctor Unusual to cast the spell which would teleport Santiago back to Original Earth, the good sorceror added an enchantment to make Santiago especially persuasive when telling the truth.
 
Copperfox said:
Despite being plagued with a computer which LOVES to delete his writings for no reason when he's just BARELY short of posting them, Copperfox WILL now prove his powers of memory, by reconstructing the substance of what his TRAITOR laptop spitefully erased.
Click to expand...
Ever try Google docs? Pretty convenient for writing/editing things on multiple machines and keeps track of every significant edit so you don't instantly lose the entire project from an accident.
 
Yeah, I probably should start composing episodes outside the forum....


Change of scene

On "Terra," where the threat of conquest by Screendoormamu had been warded off, there were only three superheroes of high-level power on the side of good. One, Captain Sha-Na-Na, has already been mentioned. Another, living in West Africa, was called Sky Lioness. Besides excellent all-around physical prowess, and extensive powers to heal others and lift curses, she was the guardian of a sacred artifact. She wore the Cap of Odudua. On "Terra" as on Original Earth, Odudua had been the founding king of the Yoruba people. As a matter of legend on Original Earth, and as a matter of concrete fact on "Terra," Odudua had worn a cap which enabled him to communicate with birds. As a descendant of Odudua, Sky Lioness was able to wield the Cap's power. Any bird that was within sight or hearing of her was an open book to her; anything the bird knew, she could know. The magic also allowed her, one time in each three days, to fly in a one-way trip at supersonic speed to a distant location.

Right now, however, Sky Lioness was receiving communication which didn't come from a bird. Her Cap was being "called" by the THIRD high-grade superhero on Terra: Conn Johnstantine, a good sorceror of power comparable to Doctor Unusual over on Seedubb.

Katuva Walton! (This was her given name.) I sense that you haven't heard yet, so I'll tell you. The obnoxious Hamhanda Blubber got in WAY over her head in Korea. She tried to conjure up the demon king Screendoormamu, imagining she could get him to do her bidding! She did at least briefly open a portal of some kind. Superheroes intervened; but I have reason to believe that there NEVER WOULD HAVE BEEN an invasion by Screendoormammu. I believe that Screendoormammu was bluffing; that he's afraid to venture onto our planet in person. What I divine of this is that he is afraid of provoking someone called Asalion. Does that name ring a bell with you?

Katuva/ Sky Lioness nodded reflexively, although the man speaking to her was more than four thousand miles away from her and she was not visible to him.

"Yes. AsaLion simply is Almighty God, the God of the Bible, assuming the shape of a lion. He doesn't overrule all evil on any version of Earth, because He wants us mortals to be able to be part of the causes and effects in the universe; that's why He permits you and me to wield magic powers on our Terra, though He does not allow this on Original Earth. But He maintains limits. He might have permitted Screendoormammu to ENTER our world in person, but He would only permit so much evil before He squashed the demon king like a cockroach. So I think I know what you're leading up to, Conn. Being aware that AsaLion would never let him destroy any Earth outright, Screendoormamu might have tried a bluff as you suggest: pretended that he was really going to invade Terra in person, but somehow settled for less."

You got it, Lioness. What I hear from The Inquiry is that Miss Blubber was hurled onto SCREENDOORMAMU'S side of the portal.... and then was returned alive. So, what might she have brought back with her?

Katuva nodded again. "She could have come back to Terra carrying something like a spiritual infection. Something which would not be so severe as to provoke AsaLion to destroy Screendoormamu, but which would at a minimum accomplish something pleasing to the forces of evil."

Are you free to come to the States this week?

"So happens I am. The Brickhawks are touring West Africa right now." (The Brickhawks, based in this Earth's United States but given to traveling abroad, were a team of seven Batman-quality heroes, who were all experienced aviators.) "They'll be able to look out for any of the super-criminals I might have been needed to fight. Where do you want to meet?"

Start in Seoul, Korea, where the portal incident occurred.

Accordingly, Katuva used one "charge" of her flight magic to travel to Korea in a matter of hours.
 
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On the dwarf planet Hatpin

The Cloud Suburb Casino had been put back in order. The robot Snidemouth's memory had been wiped by contact with the general anti-life ickiness of Kuth-Hula-Hoop; but once its head was reattached, Lackdough downloaded its backup memory. Snidemouth only needed to be told how it had come to need memory restoration. Being a non-living machine, it felt no such dreadful retroactive shudder as a human would have felt if restored to life after such a scary encounter.

Still waiting for Mopey-One to arrive, Moose Windchime continued playing blues tunes on his guitar, tunes resembling what could have been heard in the state of Mississippi on Original Earth. He had not been kidding when he said the blues could have power against evil; with his Fuss ring destroyed, his music was in fact the strongest power he currently could wield to prevent the eldritch fiend from returning. Not that he had NO Fuss ability without his ring; but the Mel Brooks-derived reality in which he was operating did stipulate that the Fuss rings were of at least some importance. And Master Windchime's link with the non-sci-fi Samuel Jackson movie made on Original Earth had a certain importance of its own.

Looking at him, studying his face which personified solemn goodness, the girl Melodica suddenly remarked: "Sir, I get the oddest feeling that your music is in fact the strongest power you currently can wield to prevent that eldritch fiend from returning. For what it's worth, I was forced into close enough contact with that thing to understand its evil better than I'd ever want to. So I can tell you that without me or some other suitable mortal subject as a vessel, it would be much more difficult tor Kuth-Hula-Hoop to return to the material cosmos. But I still feel a lot safer with your music playing, than if you were to quit before that up-sider friend of yours gets here."

Still playing, Moose replied, "Well said, kid. Like the Fuss, the blues can work for good or bad. There are blues songs which make excuses for the worst of human behavior; but there are also blues songs which celebrate those who strive to overcome the world's evils; who strive to recover from poverty, from loss, from betrayal. My music channels this power of endurance, and anyway, I enjoy it."

Melodica fell silent, amid the bustle of casino employees repairing damage. Something in her heart assured her that Moose Windchime was the very best company she could be in just now, even if no forces of evil were at work anyplace hereabouts. The Fuss master clearly did NOT feel any particular emotional reaction to her-- not to her physical beauty, nor to her former membership in a criminal gang; but it simply was in his nature as a good guy to be protective toward anyone in need and peril.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Kuth-Hula-Hoop did not return, and Master Mopey-One did arrive at Expansive Asteroid Base. He told Moose and Lackdough about his interview with Dark Headgear; Moose and Lackdough told Mopey-One all about the recent excitement.

The fair-skinned Fuss master nodded his head. "Now I understand why Quite-A-Guy Jim told me you would have use for this, Master Windchime." He held out a box of candied popcorn. Aware of Master Yoga-Rug's merchandising approach with good-guy paraphrenalia, Moose Windchime fished in the box, and brought forth a replacement Fuss ring. Joyfully donning the ring, Moose turned toward Melodica.

"Are you hungry, miss?"

"As a matter of fact, I haven't eaten anything in longer than a day," she answered.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" asked Lackdough. "My kitchen's well stocked, and the bad guys didn't damage it."

The young woman sighed. "Having been forced to carry-- that thing inside my lungs, ruined my appetite. I wouldn't have been able to keep down any food--" here she faced Moose Windchime; "--until you brought me peace with your blues guitar. Now, if you give me something to eat, I know I'll be able to digest it."

Moose handed her the popcorn. Lackdough fetched her a pitcher of the closest thing the Sorghum System had to lemonade. And Mopey-One instructed his droid Eight-Ball, assisted by Snidemouth, to contact the planetary authorities on Barnum. They would want to deploy space warships to intercept whatever ship Dark Headgear might have managed to obtain for a flight to Expansive Asteroid Base. When the time came, Mopey-One would need to be spaceborne in his A-Frame spacecraft, to deal with Dark Headgear.

Meanwhile, the ex-criminal Melodica was grimly determined not to let Master Windchime out of her sight. Even if this narrative wasn't going to allow her to get beyond mere friendship with her protector, she was heck-bent on enjoying at least his friendship.
 
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====> Summary Time Again!

Since I last summarized the action---

I retroactively told more about how I had already *refused* to allow my version of Thor to be a moron who would throw away a sure victory for the sake of his emotions. I told how things went for the Earth he was associated with when he *did* stay on task and killed my version of Thanos *without* giving Thanos the chance to "snap" their story-universe. I added that, after the defeat of my Thanos variant, the Captain America and Black Widow of this Earth got married-- which, absent any chance for Cap to get back to Peggy, is *obviously* the best conceivable outcome for the star-spangled hero *and* for the ex-assassin. I also made it clear to all readers that my Thor would be an idiot to marry anyone *other* than my version of Lady Sif.

"Seedubb" remains the most developed-in-depth of my six or seven alternate Earths; it is the one being visited by characters directly derived from "Spaceballs" and the "Dune" series. Here, The Wisecracker failed in his attempt to capture the compact Snarkonnen spaceship, thanks in part to a version of Captain America, but not the Captain America who is mentioned in the previous paragraph. My version of Duncan Idaho figured out that the "Face Twisters" who infiltrated Seedubb Earth had intended for this automated ship to carry their severed-but-living *heads* back to the Snarkonnen homeworld, where their bodies could be regrown. (This, on their view, was an energy-efficient way for the Face Twisters to escape and carry their information back to Doctor Dizwarn.) "Santiago," my version of the cousin of Dora the Explorer, finished his tour of Seedubb, and was magically transported back to Original Earth.

My version of The Mandalorian parted company on good terms with Master Yoga-Rug. Because of Yoga-Rug having previously been in psychic contact with an Earth where anime characters were real (including the she-monster "Mugwumpa"), The Banjolorian decided to travel to that Earth in search of employment. (That particular Earth is also the birthplace of Green Flashlight Lucy Luminous, though Banjo seems unlikely ever to meet Lucy Luminous.)

On Planet Spacebull, the former kettledrummer from the mega-mothership sprang Dark Headgear out of prison. They joined other veterans of the Spacebullion space navy in an attempt to reach and rescue fellow evildoers in the Sorghum star system. Dark Headgear preferred not to admit that those fellow evildoers were in danger of arrest because Dark Headgear carelessly blurted out information about them when questioned by my version of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

On my version of Arrakis/Dune, my versions of Lady Jessica and Fremen Chief Stilgar placed the "Naughtygators" under arrest for plotting against House Ashtayides. This became known to Baron Meedi Ogre on Planet Greedy Crime, only just in time for him to cancel sending Admiral Blender on a secret mission to Srirachiss which would have been found out.

 I provided my overview of how I could say that there was an Anakin Skywalker character who never became Darth Vader-- "Dark Headgear," in my imagination, being NOT any form of Anakin Skywalker. In my own retcon, the counterpart of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared as a "Force ghost" and persuaded "Anakin" to turn against my Palpatine counterpart. My "Anakin" still died, but died honorably, WITHOUT ever becoming a traitor. This in turn means that my version of Padme did not die; her sorrow could be tempered by the knowledge that her husband never joined the side of evil, so she never lost the will to live.

Besides my version of Obi-Wan, my version of Mace Windu became involved in trying to capture all of Dark Headgear's not-yet-caught minions. This led both heroes to converge, from different directions, upon a place loosely analogous to Lando Calrissian's Cloud City. "Moose Windchime" reached there first, and was in the act of arresting Dark Headgear's accomplices when he was attacked by a version of H.P. Lovecraft's horror-demon Cthulhu. Moose survived the encounter, but all of the crooks except one young woman were carried out of Moose's reach by the retreating anti-god.

For a substantial digression, I revisited the Earth variant which had previously been visited by the hologram of Drool from Planet Upsydaisylon. I wanted to confirm that even people who DON'T have super-powers can produce a great impact for good on any society. The imaginary band "Skinny Leopard," together with direct copies of real-world musical celebrities, joined forces to campaign in favor of true, loyal, responsible, permanent love. (Hey, this is a fantasy, so I can imagine them doing that.)

On the Earth variant where versions of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier married reformed versions of Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn (the latter woman being a different Harley Quinn from the Seedubb one, who upon turning good married Batman's butler), there were ongoing repercussions from the incident of Screendoormamu trying to invade this Earth. A hero independently invented by me, the African superheroine Sky Lioness, was drawn into investigating the possibility of a less-blatant contamination of this Earth by Screendoormamu. Sky Lioness knows Who Aslan is.

On the small planet Hatpin in the Sorghum System where my Lando Calrissian counterpart lives, Moose Windchime revealed himself to be a blues guitarist as well as a Jedi-equivalent. His guitar playing has a "protection against evil" spell-like effect. Melodica, the one gang member who didn't escape with my Cthulhu counterpart, became fascinated with Master Windchime's music.
 
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On Bubblewrap Five....

Security Chief Snack Salad, third in command of the diplomatic space station, eagerly accepted an invitation from Drool to visit him at his underground headquarters on Planet Upsydaisylon, at the heart of the Great Artifact. While Snack was preparing to fly a shuttle down to the surface (all command officers on Bubblewrap Five were required to qualify at piloting small spacecraft), Gross-Goo caught a telepathic whiff of what was up. Asking Noherra Synthmusica to accompany him, the young Toofah-Roffian sought Snack out.

"Chief Salad, may we go with you to see Master Drool?"

Snack had been around telepaths-- indeed, around telepaths whose mind-reading power was more detailed and precise than any Fuss user could boast. His habitual clean living and his frank manner made him far less uneasy about having his mind scanned than most non-telepaths. Now, he just quietly smiled at the little green boy.
'
Gross-Goo smiled back. "No, Chief Salad, I cannot make out every detail of your thoughts. But I can tell that you have nothing against our coming along. I get the impression that you are waiting for Master Drool to appear in front of you via hologram."

Snack, Noherra, and every station worker close enough to hear the conversation, looked all arouhd for Drool to appear.

Drool did not appear; but Flapjack One, most senior of the humanoid maintenance workers for the Great Artifact, did appear as a hologram. "Hello, Chief. Drool tells Flapjack to stand before holographic projector. Drool has to take shower in his actual body; started to smell bad while he was away from it. Says to tell you he will be ready to confer with you by time you land on planetary surface. And yes, can bring green persons with you. No green plants growing in areas where master is usually physically present; pleasing to see something green."

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

On the shuttle flight down to Upsydaisylon, Snack showed Noherra how all the controls worked. "This probably looks prehistoric to you. Our shuttles aren't able to jump to hyperspace on their own power; have to use a hyperspace gate. Whereas I understand you have ships no bigger than this one that can make their own warp transition."

She smiled at the non-tail-headed man. "But it ISN'T necessary for every in-system ship to have its own over-lightspeed capability, any more than a planetary sailboat needs to be able to fly in the air. Everything I've learned about your local-area spacecraft says that they are very well engineered and operationally efficient."

For all the rest of their descent to Upsydaisylon, Snack's conversation with Noherra remained dry and technical, yet it managed also to be highly cordial.

When they disembarked and approached the visitors' entrance to the cavern of the Artifact, their host finally appeared holographically.

"Welcome, friends. While you were descending into atmosphere, I ascertained that your Captain Broccoli had awakened from sleep. Accordingly, when we four hold our meeting, she, and four or five non-human dignitaries of her choosing, will be able to participate virtually from a secure conference room on the station."

Snack raised an eyebrow. "is this meeting about some actual danger to Bubblewrap Five?"

"No, not at all. But it will be something which unsettles long-held assumptions."

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

J'Unkycar, a reptilian-looking Goldarn humanoid who had been deeply involved in the adventures of the station leadership, was the first person in the station's conference room to ask a question of sorts.

"Please tell me that the Shadythings haven't come back!"

"Never fear," Drool assured him, "those monsters will never turn up again in any galaxy known to us. My report concerns the very NATURE OF life, but it does not imply any direct threat TO YOUR LIVES."

"You talk like an up-side Fuss master," Gross-Goo remarked.

"Then let me be more direct. Captain Broccoli, you and I spoke recently about the never-tiresome subject of origins. Numerous highly-evolved sapient races have long bragged that they secretly created the civilizations of all the worlds who maintain a political or commercial presence on Bubblewrap Five. They can't all be right; that would be like your ancient Earthside metaphor, 'too many chiefs and not enough Indians.'

"But now I find that maybe these competing claims of creating human civilization COULD all be true at the same time. Because I find that, even if we consider Earthlyforce's Earth to be one and the same as Original Earth, ADDITIONAL Earths also exist-- and in at least a few cases, there are also multiple versions of non-human worlds we've known."
 
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"Don't stop there!" exclaimed J'Unkycar.

"The arrival of Noherra and Gross-Goo," Drool resumed, "brought us verification, albeit second hand, that there are many worlds populated by human beings. No different from the humans living on the Planet Earth we know. But I was inclined to believe this merely meant that human migration between stars had begun sooner, and reached farther, than is commonly supposed by anyone other than Stargate fans. But Gross-Goo here, by means of this Master Yoga-Rug, is aware specifically that there are planets which seem to be EQUAL, ALTERNATE VERSIONS of Earth itself. Worlds which seem to have their own matching versions of the Chinese, the Egyptians, revolutions, the steam engine, labor unions, rock music, social media, the whole picture.

"As far as the typical humans on any of these multiple Earths know, their own Earth is the only Earth. As far as I know, none of these Earths were colonized by any other Earth; each one progressed independently from the others, yet at the same time with closely similar histories."

"According to Yoga-Rug," interjected Gross-Goo, "it is only Earth which has more than ten parallel versions of itself, but at least two other worlds have at least one extra version of themselves."

Secretary Leftear, a young man of Drool's own Mintcandybarri race, cleared his throat. "Before we go any further, Master Drool, are you talking about alternate space-time dimensions, with one Earth for every time-stream?"

"No. It would actually be LESS of a paradox if this were a matter of one Earth for each of multiple reality-dimensions. But the multiple Earths I've become aware of, all exist within THIS physical reality."

"So do any of the Earths have communication with any other Earth?" asked Elizabeth Broccoli.

"I'm not sure, Captain. But from any one of these Earths, given enough time and fuel, a starship could physically travel across measurable distance and arrive at another Earth. Yet the strangeness doesn't stop there. Some Earths enjoy a level of science and technology roughly equal to your Earthlyforce, and one or two are a little more advanced than you. But others are no farther developed than the Earth WE know as it was in its early twenty-first century."

Noherra raised her hand as if in school. "And all of that STILL doesn't take into account the humans we Tryyurlucks have known for centuries. Klayman, the human male whom I loved and would have married if he had lived, was as human as any of you humans on Bubblewrap Five; but he and Fizzra-- that's a human boy Klayman and I became like parents to--had never heard of ANY planet called 'Earth'."

"I'm as curious about this as the next oxygen-breathing vertebrate sapient," said Snack Salad. "But does the mystery have any observable effect on the safety of the station's inhabitants?"

"As far as I know, it does not," Drool told him. "But on one of the less-advanced Earths, I hope to have started a trend which will promote the happiness of many humans." The old scholar now told them about his intervention at the concert by Skinny Leopard. He added an account of how he had helped a teenage boy to AVOID breaking the heart of a teenage girl.

Snack, who himself had experienced cruel romantic disappointments all his life since middle school, was all ears now. And Gross-Goo, without saying anything to anyone else, began to wonder whether there was any way he could help this good-hearted human male to find lasting love with a good-hearted woman.


~ ~ ~ ~ Right here, since I just said something about love, let me REPEAT my kinda-sorta reader poll.

Should my version of Marvel's Thor marry my version of the Asgardian Lady Sif, and forget ANY version of "Jane Foster"? Here's where you're supposed to say YES!!! //// And while I'm thinking about it, please give me opinions on whether Noherra Synthmusica should get together with Snack Salad.
 
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Rapid-fire changes of scene

U-R-T-H, the Earth-variant which had beaten back an invasion by Twerpseid, was among the worlds NOT having spaceflight capability that could rival a reality derived from Star Wars, Dune or Babylon Five. But owing to a previous unsuccessful alien invasion, by beings called Meteor Monsters, people on Urth had known that other worlds existed out in space even before Superdude, then Superkid, was revealed in their midst. Thus, the whole population of Urth was thrilled by the implications of Adam and Proxima Straightup appearing not long after the failed invasion.

Mister and Missus Straightup, and available members of the Justified League, met with government figures and leaders of industry, to discuss how human manufacturing assets could be upgraded to duplicate the Tachyon Loop generator which had enabled Adam and Proxima's ship to leave their home solar system. Five League members who were especially well-liked all over Urth-- Superhottie, Moistureman, Brazilian Flame, Gleaming Knight and Vigilant Cowboy-- helped to oversee a division of spoils. In other words, as abandoned remnants of Twerpseid's equipment were collected from the multiple battlegrounds of the invasion, the superheroes ensured that every industrialized nation on Urth could take home at least a few specimens of the extraterrestrial hardware, accompanied by data files on what the purpose of each alien device had been.

Communist China was permitted to claim a big share of this futuristic loot, because of changes for the better in the Beijing of this world's China. Well before the Twerpseid invasion, the Justified League had leaned hard on China's rulers to back off on their cruel acts of repression. The breaking point had come when Superdude had landed in the pre-takeoff area of China's largest air force base, and in less than ten minutes had seized each and every parked jet on the field and turned it upside-down, thus badly damaging China's aerial-combat potential without harming a single human being. On the same day, Superhottie had plucked a cruiser of the Chinese navy out of its home harbor, given the crew time to abandon ship, and then carried the ship many miles inland to set it down in an open ricefield.

This had been a breaking point, a wake-up call. The Party leadership had finally realized that, unlike sexy vampires in stupid novels, they COULD face consequences for their crimes. They had immediately discontinued persecuting Christians, Buddhists and Muslims for their beliefs, and had ceased certain practices with political prisoners which my readers would shudder to see described. The super-cousins had then followed the stick with the carrot, by personally delivering to Beijing the largest and heaviest of the Twerpseid items being allocated to China. (But the Chinese were on their own as regarded moving their warship and airplanes back to their bases. This was what diplomats would call an aide memoire.)

But it was the United States of this world which enjoyed the direct assistance of Adam Straightup; he had lived here himself before being transported to Senphatori. With his and Proxima's guidance, a larger version of their own spacecraft was built by Urth's closest equivalent of Lockheed Aviation, to be named Hope of Urth. The plan was that Urthian volunteers would man the two ships-- with Adam and Proxima being the chief pilots-- as a beginning of non-super-powered humans from Urth joining in on interstellar adventures.

All of this was contingent on successful construction of a new Tachyon Loop installation.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

On another Earth not yet mentioned in this epic, there had been three major divergences in human history:

{1} India, supported by the Nepali, Kazakh and Uzbek peoples, had conquered half of China at about the same time as the Western Roman Empire fell. {2} The strife in the medieval Catholic church had gone a different way, with the rebel papacy in Avignon, France prevailing down to modern times. {3} The combined native peoples of Mexico, assisted by Incas marching up from Peru, had overthrown the Aztec Empire fifty years before Hernan Cortez came, so that there was no anti-Aztec native population from which Cortez could gain support for his invasion.

The first of these differences had no bearing on the events about to be described. But on an evening in the 21st century, it was to the Avignon Vatican that a touring group of pilgrims came; and not one of these pilgrims was Mexican, because Mexico had never become a Catholic nation.

The tour guides all wore odd, smirking expressions as they led the pious tourists into a cellar which supposedly contained holy relics. The faithful souls were soon to discover that their nervousness was not without cause. The tallest female among the guides, calling herself Giovanna Alizia, suddenly laughed aloud, revealing pointed teeth, and said:

"Time to despair and perish, feeble mortals! Your God cannot help you, and your prayers are in vain! You exist only to feed us, the sexy vampires who truly rule the world!"

But before any of the vampires could take more than one step toward their intended victims, the catacomb was filled with a resounding ROOOOAARRR-- not muffled, the way Andrew Adamson's movie had annoyingly muffled Aslan's roar when He came to save His followers from Jadis, but thunderous beyond the bounds of thunderous-ness. And there stood AsaLion Himself, directly facing Giovanna Alizia. "It is YOU, evil ones, who are feeble before ME! And rather than people existing only to feed you, YOU exist only to embody one of the many directions which human imagination takes. And a rather disgusting direction yours is: encouraging teenagers to fantasize about being monsters who defy all morality, worship themselves, and are never held accountable for their deeds.

"But since I'm not a Calvinist, to impose an inescapable destiny on living beings without giving them any chance to be saved, I give YOU a chance to be saved. Renounce your narcissistic pride and cruelty right now, submitting to My authority, and you can be forgiven in eternity for your crimes, if not immune to earthly penalties. If thus yielding, you shall become a positive part of The Never-Stopping Story, representing those who are cleansed and redeemed from darkness."

About half of the sexy vampires immediately grovelled on the stone floor, begging for AsaLion's mercy. The others, including Giovanna Alizia, idiotically tried to attack the God-Lion.... and were all dead and in The Bad Place before they knew what had hit them. The Lion's breath quelled the fears of the onlooking pilgrims, assuring them that the danger had passed.

"You others," rumbled AsaLion, "rise now as mortals, and turn yourselves in to the temporal authorities, confessing all your acts of murder. I will move upon their hearts to grant you some clemency at your trials; but do not value My mercy lightly, lest a worse thing befall you."

The surviving sexy vampires were no longer vampires of any kind; they were only extremely chastened human beings. To the innocent pilgrims, AsaLion said this before He vanished: "Remember what you have witnessed. Do not expect other mortals to believe exactly what happened. But whenever you find anyone imagining that it would be sophisticated and glamorous to be a creature who regards human beings as groceries-- remember who had to beg for mercy from Whom this night."
 
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On Srirachiss, Lady Jazzica questioned Haxxadoff about whether any of the full-powered Naughtygators could be trusted to transport her back to Waterpark, the ancestral Ashtrayides home planet, in order to begin preparations for spaceship construction. An in-person trip was necessary, because this Frank Herbert-based story-universe had no interstellar VOICE communication. We really did create a weakness for ourselves, Jazzica reflected, by becoming so utterly dependent on the instantaneous travel furnished by the Spaced-Out Guild.

"I am aware," Jazzica told her new recruit, "that high-level Naughtygators have considerable resistance to The Chatter." Duke Neato's widow was referring to the Penny Jezebels' ability to make people obey their spoken commands.

"There's one," replied Haxxadoff. "Roundabounder is the youngest of the full-mutation pilots among those you have imprisoned. He has only made four solo flights to date. His mind may not be strong enough to resist your control; not strong enough to take you elsewhere than where you demand. And if you have trained your grandchildren as well as I expect you have done, they should be able to use The Chatter also. If all three of you can work in unison-- is that ever done?"

"It is rare in all the history of our order; but there have been a few times. And we would not need to maintain control for long. Literally just minutes to keep Roundabounder on course outward bound, and the same later on the return trip."

Chief Sleevecard was already in place as the effective temporary ruler of Srirachiss. Jazzica needed only to summon Stillneater and Gladiola, then have a squad of armed men drag Roundabounder to a parked local-area spacecraft. With Haxxadorf, they ascended to a jump-ship which was orbiting idly; all the while, the three Ashtrayides Jalapeno adepts chanted in unison: "YOU will take us safely to the Ashtrayides homeworld of Waterpark; you WILL take us safely to the Ashtrayides homeworld of Waterpark; you will take us SAFELY to the Ashtrayides homeworld of Waterpark; you will take us safely to the ASHTRAYIDES homeworld of Waterpark; you will take us safely to the Ashtrayides homeworld of WATERPARK."

Roundabounder obviously resented being controlled, but he did not have the force of will to resist all three adepts working against him. He took them to their destination efficiently.

When a shuttle came up from the surface bearing trusted officers of House Ashtrayides, Jazzica hastily explained about her missing son Groan Starr having resurfaced; about Trala-Lalia having joined in Groan's mission; about the Spaced-Out Guild's new treachery; and about the opportunity to replicate the kind of spacecraft Groan was accustomed to. Then she entrusted her faithful men with Groan's data files on how to build and operate a new Selenium Falcon, telling them to use their own best judgment in the event that further instructions from Srirachiss were delayed for longer than a week. "But if you succeed in building such a ship, do not attempt to fly it except in the most extreme need-- because, until Groan returns, we have no one who can adequately train you in the hands-on flight procedures."

Less than three hours after entering orbit around the planet, Jazzica sadly bade it farewell again. On Waterpark, I was able to take a water bath more often than twice a month, without being afraid that I would cause one or more people to die of thirst.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At a high-end wine shop on Planet Directvideo, the Face Twister Fooldemall, still disguised as Liaison Minister Proconsul from Chimpanzia, was busy flattering Duke Diskoduck, Princess Vixen's not-very-bright cousin.

"Bravo, Your Grace!" exclaimed the Snarkonnen agent, as he allowed the geeky Duke to beat him again at arm wrestling. "Your muscular might bears witness to the awe-inspiring legends of Directvidean warriors!"

"I'm, uh, not sure I remember any great warriors in our history. At least, not since, you know, that thing, I mean our world's industrial revolution."

"Then Your Grace is all the more impressive to me, for having REVIVED rugged manliness on Directvideo. In these perilous times, what with your planet recently having come so close to being made uninhabitable, the Directvidean people surely must be grateful that you are among them, a beacon of hope and confidence. What a contrast to that irresponsible Princess Vixen, who ran away into space at the very time when her world was under threat from the Spacebullies! Shame on her!"

"Well, um, that's not really fair to Cousin Vixen. The day she ran away from getting forced into, forced into that arranged marriage, none of us KNEW that Bob Snooze was planning to steal all our air."

Fooldemall increased his fake smile of admiration. "Your Grace is generous indeed, to defend the reputation of a family member. And this, a family member who is ROBBING YOU of prestige!"

Diskoduck's eyebrows rose. "Er, what prestige do you mean?"

The Face Twister now reminded himself not to work too fast. Tonight was too soon to start suggesting that the geeky Duke deserved to be a KING. "Your Grace, I mean that your faithful performance of duty in the environmental restoration of this world should be receiving more praise and recognition."

Diskoduck smiled broadly. "I wasn't thinking about that. But you're right, Pro-tonsil."

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but that's Pro-CON-sul."

Fooldemall would wait at least another three days before he upped the ante. When the moment seemed right, he would start insinuating that Vixen BY THE FACT OF BEING A WOMAN was less worthy than the Duke to be a reigning head of state.
 
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Back on Seedubb, the Face Twister who had escaped from being captured by the Teen Tryouts and Captain Patriot had reached Urbanopolis. One of the other Face Twisters, who happened to have been along the Mississippi River to see the Queenkraken before Opposite Whoosh charged her to abduct Princess Reelnyce, had radioed him with at least a partial account of what followed.

The Face Twister who biked his way to Urbanopolis, and the one who had been closer to the recent action in the Midwest without being drawn into it, were both tired of being anonymous. The one who has only just been mentioned henceforth has the name of Slywink, while the one who has been in some onstage action is to be called Maskoflage.

Slywink told Maskoflage, "I can't imagine that Spark Laboratories will destroy our personnel-extraction ship; but it might as well have been destroyed, if we can't get to it and escape from Earth in it. You may be aware, however, that a larger, intact ship is being kept secure in or near Generic Large City. If we could somehow get the use of that ship, we could stay intact ourselves, not needing the special cranial arrangement, and fly back to Greedy Crime."

"That's if we can't still achieve gains for the side of badness by staying on Seedubb longer. I'd rather not report back to the Baron without having some definite success to show for the expedition. Have you heard from any of the others?" asked Maskoflage.

"No. But I might be able to locate the Earthling supervillain Opposite Whoosh. I haven't lost my plotline-convenient chrono-spatial dowsing rod. If Opposite Whoosh used time displacement when he threw off pursuit, I can at least identify where he was when he time-shifted. He might be interested in collaborating with us, the more so if he understands that we're not out to destroy or conquer his native world."

"Hmmm. In view of my having taken the trouble to come to Urbanopolis, and since the odds don't favor our taking back the personnel-extraction ship in a usable state, I recommend that we turn our attention to targets of opportunity."

"Sounds as good as anything," replied Slywink. "Especially if it leads to our being able to undermine people's belief in goodness. I'll proceed and search for Opposite Whoosh, then offer to assist him in any upcoming scheme he might have simmering on his own account. Who knows, he might have use for a colleague who can infiltrate places WITHOUT an attention-catching rush-about."

"All right, and I'll do the same gang-building I would have done in connection with our hopes of helping recover our ship. Only, now I'll get my new partners in crime to--- AWWWK!"

"Maskoflage! Maskoflage! What happened?"

A moment later, Slywink heard an unfamiliar voice: a strong, manly voice, with an undertone of hoarseness. A voice which could come from the throat of a man who, lacking super-powers, often had to run like a track star in pursuit of evildoers.

"I happened to him-- because I'm Batfellow!"

Slywink had lived on Seedubb Earth in disguise long enough to understand what manner of hero Batfellow was. Even though it was known that Batfellow never killed a human or human-like being, it crossed the Face Twister's mind to wonder whether the Caped Campaigner would consider a Face Twister to BE anything like human.
 
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Filthopolis, planetary capital of Greedy Crime

With no new assignment pressing upon them, Blender and Quarkie resumed enjoying each other's company, which included watching more deliberately-ruined movies.

"Have you ever heard of the Lone Ranger, darling?"

"No, I haven't," replied the sort-of-retired Spacebullion Admiral. "Is this another character imagined on Original Earth?"

"Yes, an idealized cowboy-era hero. And his brotherly bond with a Native American warrior always worked against our kindred spirits who wanted the America of Original Earth to be seen as demonically wicked through and through. First, let me show you the pilot episode of the old television series."

Belonging as he did to a branch of humanity far separated from Original Earth, Blender had no idea who Gioachino Rossini had been. Still less had Blender ever heard the "Call To Arms" movement from the overture to Rossini's opera William Tell. When he heard for the first time the music which had been adopted as the Lone Ranger's musical portrait, the hardened Spacebully was profoundly disturbed. For the first time in his memory, something in him wanted to be a good guy instead of a bad guy. Quarkie looked at him with an expression which combined love and a knowing smirk.

"That's how I felt the first time I heard the Lone Ranger's theme. But don't worry; the Retcon Effect can cure this disease of wishing for virtue."

After they finished viewing this virtue-promoting pilot episode from the earliest days of Old Earth television, Quarkie called up a theatrical film of the Lone Ranger which had been made over half a century later.

Admiral Blender was cured of the desire for goodness before they were halfway through the movie. THIS Lone Ranger was weak, useless, idiotic and contemptible. Tonto also was less admirable here than he had been on television, but he still was much smarter and braver than his kimosabe. After bumbling around ineffectually for nearly the entire movie, the Lone Ranger was grudgingly allowed to do something resembling Lone Ranger action for about three minutes.-- with the famous overture now playing, as if tossing this bone to a cheated audience made things right.

Fully restored to his badness, Blender declared, "I love it! The token little scrap of heroics at the end came too late to give a good-aligned audience any satisfaction at all. Excellent job of adding insult to injury!"

Quarkie kissed him hard, then murmured, "And you know what we say if anyone objects to the sabotage."

Together, they recited: "But it's so BORING if the heroes are IMPOSSIBLY PERFECT!!"

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

Doctor Dizwarn, like most self-respecting villains in any high-science community, spied on his subordinates regularly. Seeing the revisionist Lone Ranger movie, and observing how the couple viewing it reacted to it, the Lazytaxie scientist conceived an idea, and brought it up to his master.

"My Lord Baron, we have conversed seriously about the danger we face if these 'Fuss users' take notice of us. Dark Headgear sounds like a man we could do business with; but it frightens me to think what could happen to us if Master Yoga-Rug or Groan Starr decided that we needed to be defeated. But if such heroes could be induced to adopt an ATTITUDE of self-deconstruction, like the stars of revisionist movies, they would never bother opposing us in the first place! All we would need is a way to make them internalize the concept that good is dumb."

"I can hardly disagree with you," said Meedi Ogre Snarkonnen, around a mouthful of bugs he was chewing. "But genuine telepathy is a great deal rarer, and less reliable, than we could wish it to be. Are you about to suggest a solution?"

"Yes, my lord. We know that there are disaffected Penny Jezebels who were loyal to the Calamari emperors, and who hate House Ashtrayides. We could easily persuade them to try using The Chatter to erode an up-side Fuss user's devotion to goodness."
 
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RESUMING RAPID CHANGES OF SCENE.....

NOTE: I wrote an earlier post setting up a parody of the Seventies TV series "Space: 1999." That seems to have disappeared unaccountably. But if you do a search for that show, this will make sense.

===============================================================

A supermodel-gorgeous human woman woke up in one of the sleeping compartments on Moonbase Alpo, in the story-reality derived from the Seventies TV series "Space: 1999." The problem was that she had no definite memory of herself having existed at all before this moment. Mercifully, she was not left alone with her existential confusion for more than a few seconds.

"Have no fear," said a voice deeper than oceans, yet also as cheerful and positive as the coach of a championship athletic team. The woman experienced a secondary startlement from the realization that she knew the meaning of the sports analogy which had just entered her mind, even though she had never seen any competitive sport being played. The unseen Being continued:

"You find yourself living in a universe which is closely related to stories. I sometimes call this The Never-Stopping Story. But you need not feel any Sartre-and-Camus sort of dread and despair." (Just like that, the woman was aware that there had been two renowned French atheists by those names; she even was aware now of what France was.) The voice went on: "Although you are in a story, you are not an illusion that would vanish if an audience forgot about you. If I say that a thing exists, then it does exist. Although brought into being for the purpose of a retcon, you are now a living, mortal creature, and you are eligible for life after death in My Kingdom."

That was reassuring, not frightening. Still, it was so overwhelming to take in, that Versaderma-- for she now knew this to be her name-- abruptly changed into a reptilian monster with horns. This was a bit scary to her. But additional reassurance was immediate.

"Don't worry, henceforth you will have complete conscious control over your transformations. Note that your pajamas disappeared when you became this Gobladorgan Cave-Dragon. Any clothing you have on at the time of a shape change will disappear, except if the change is to a still-humanoid form, but your clothes will be there again when you resume your true shape. It's a plotline convenience. Now, think of yourself changing back to human form."

It worked, and the once-again-human Versaderma had her pajamas on again. A new thought followed.

"Lord, is this name of mine a sort of pun? Deliberately signifying my polymorphing power?"

"Got it in one. Real-world authors who write fantasy do that all the time, so I went with it. Now, about your crewmates. Like you, they are characters in a story, but they are also actual flesh-and-blood people, also eligible by My grace to enter an actual Heaven when they die. When you see them, they will know you; it is retroactively becoming a story-fact that you joined them when they visited your planet."

Versaderma shook her brown-haired head. "Um, right. It's playing back in my, in my newly-downloaded memories. Nuclear wastes stored on the surface of the Moon caused the Moon to break away from Earth, and somehow gave the Moon the ability to travel faster than light, yet make temporary stops of its own accord, in alien solar systems where they can re-provision. Hence my joining the Moonbase Alpo crew when they visited my world. They can visit new planets when the Moon pauses in a star system, because their world had interplanetary-level spaceflight capability. And somehow, they always miraculously know how much time they can spend visiting a planet and still make it back to base before the Moon goes warp-speed again."

"Yes, it is ridiculous, isn't it? But most mortals don't want to be bothered with internal logic in a story. And as for you, being inside the story, you might as well accept that the physically-impossible spontaneous movement of the Moon is genuine."

"If You say so. It comes to me now that this habitat is commanded by a man called Roland Foote, and he is married to Barbara Overhill who is the chief scientist. Both of them possess a serene confidence that they can handle impossible missions, and they both derive satisfaction from showing the younger personnel that people over age forty can still contribute to adventures. But tell me, Lord, what should I call You?"

"In this reality, calling Me 'AsaLion' will do. Now, one more thing before I withdraw My audible presence. One other woman with supernormal abilities has recently come on board the Moonbase. Her name is Lucy Luminous; she is native to a different version of Earth from the Earth which lost its Moon; she is one of an army of space-traveling heroes who are called Green Flashlights; she accordingly can share extensive knowledge about other worlds; and she, as much as the others here, will retroactively 'remember' who you are as soon as she sees you. You and Lucy --I don't mind mentioning that I like that name-- will have plenty to do in the coming days, helping the Moonbase people to survive. Their version of Earth never had any superheroes, but now they have you and Lucy."

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

On the version of Earth where Drool of Upsydaisylon had shamed the band Skinny Leopard into promoting wholesome human relationships, the trend in favor of true love and loyal friendship still was gaining momentum.

A short, soft-spoken man who had become famous in the Sixties, and who still was actively composing songs in his old age, came on a streaming channel with a confession to make. The short man spoke about a much taller man who had formerly toured with him: a man possessing a far better singing voice than the short man, but with no other musical talent of any sort.

"I have learned, over the years, that most human beings really define 'fairness' and 'equality' as 'whatever gives ME an advantage.' When I teamed up with Mister G, I always understood what a profound creative IN-equality existed between me and him. I had the talent of composing songs, both music and words, but he had no such gift. Also, I played guitar, while he played no instrument. All he brought to the table was a superior voice; and I even limited how much he could do with THAT.

"On one hand, since I was in fact writing the songs, it wasn't unreasonable for me to sing the lead on many of them; and the very fact of his greater singing ability made him valuable for harmonizing. So if this asymmetry had been all there was to it, I wouldn't be feeling TERRIBLY guilty about the inequality. But there was an added complication, and this was what brought out my selfishness.

"It turned out that Mister G did excel me in one other talent: theatrical acting. He got cast in two movies, and played his roles very well. His doing this did not in any way invalidate what we had been doing musically, nor did it mean we couldn't make new records in the future. But here was where that warped, self-serving perception of 'equality' came in. Just the fact that he COULD do something which was all his own stung my ego. So I pretended for a while that I was the one at a disadvantage, that I was being treated unfairly.

"After all these years, I finally confess that one critic was right to say that I treated Mister G like a folding lawn chair, to be used and put away as I pleased. That's what I did, and I got sulky when my singing partner found something he didn't need me for. So now I say for the world to hear: please forgive me, old friend. You deserved better treatment."

And since this is a mostly upbeat story, Mister G did publicly forgive the short guy.

Remarkable, how much healing can be accomplished by a sincere, contrite apology, coming from the party who is chiefly in the wrong.
 
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