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Adventure Kay & The Claw of
Karnak |
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 16. Night Moves The moonless Got-Amalan night glittered with a million stars, and the gentle hum of the Pratt & Whitney's was a perfect accompaniment to the sighing slipstream. Inside the darkened flight deck, two furs sat with the radio playing softly in their headphones. "And now, it's time for Pat Rabbitson's Holy-Moly Hour! So please give a big paw to Mr. 'Itsa Merkle!' himself, Pat..... One of the furs quickly fiddled with the radio. "...please welcome, directly from their successful engagement at the posh Club Soda in Got-Amala City, that Tit-Mouse of Tango, Cheese Louise, and her Stooge-monkeys of Swing - Moe Jo JoJo, Larry Hairy, and Curley Cue. Take it away!" A steamy tune, as hot as the tropical night air, filled the headphones - punctuated by an occasional 'Nyuk',. "Nice tune," said a quiet voice. "Too bad there isn't much room in this puddle-jumper. I feel like dancing." "You could have taken 'El Tigre Blanco' airlines, and been in Got-Amala City by now, dancing to your hearts content." "Enough of that. You know you're still my Maine Coon." "Well... he was okay, I guess... for a jet jockey." "And he may come in handy later. I think you're still mad because I called you 'KittyHawk' in front of him. Am I right?" "My friends can call me that whenever they want." "But woe to those who snicker." "KittyHawk is a fine and storied name, deserving of much respect." "Even if it sounds like a Beenie-Baby moniker?" "I'll have you know, Doctor, that I'm no sawdust-stuffed collectible. I come from a long line of profoundly proficient pilot pusses, both naval and aeronautical. Not many could have pulled off that spur-of-the-moment, snatch 'n' scamper maneuver." A svelte feline paw gently caressed the yoke. "That's true. I must admit, you handled Miss Piggy with a masterful touch." There was a rough chuckle. "Watch it there. This flying pork-barrel might think I'm actually starting to like her." Kayngi chuckled as well. Cateagle might not 'like' Miss Piggy', but his devotion to the gutsy plane was undeniable. "Two hours to Got-Amala City airport," said the Maine Coon. "Why don't you get some sleep?" Kay nodded, lowered her backrest, and let her thoughts drift away along with the music into the night. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Other creatures were thinking and planning this night, too. "So who have you gotten to do the snatch?" asked the wolf on the throne. "We have three furs in position. The leader is a lion/leopard cross named Cutter Long, the dotted lion. The bait is a hot little two-timer called Ima Cheetah, and the insider is an actor camel named Drama Derry." "Let's do it then. We can't be sure Adventure Kay escaped alive from the Butt Monkeys of Doom, so following her to the Claw of Karnak may not be an option. We must therefore snatch her most valuable resources - Professor Cirrel and Mike, the Librarian - and get our answers from them." "It's as good as done. All hail the Wolf Revolution!" Howls from the dark ruins drifted across the night sky, and any fur listening would have sworn something was about to satisfy its need for blood. Either that, or it had stubbed its toe really badly. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Maxx lowered his binoculars, and spat out a soggy cigar before chomping down on a fresh one. "If ya wanna be sneaky, you guys really ought to knock off the 'Mwhahah' stuff. Any fur can pick that up a mile away." Maxx put away the binoculars, pulled out a battered Palm Pilot and quickly began typing a message to Kayngi. "I'm sure CW is back. He and DW are in the fake ruins west of 'Chit-in-yer-Britches' - a supposedly haunted Mayan temple near here. You contact me before you tangle with CW. Signed, Maxx." Maxx thought a bit and typed some more. "I mean it. Contact me the moment you arrive, even if it's late, Dr. Kayngi. Maxx out." Maxx hit the send button and settled back to watch the ruins and wait for a reply. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the bowels of the fake ruins, a security scanner picked up a nearby signal, and promptly forgot most of it before recording it. Seems it had some faulty memory. The rat monitoring the machines noted the beep and pressed the 'play' function. The broken message caused him to 'Chit-in-his-Britches'. "I'm...... back..... to..... haunt.... you..... CW. Signed..... the.... late Dr. Kayngi..." |
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17.
Morning Coffee |
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| 18. The Best
Laid Travel Plans.... It was pitch black in the place where the two Furnet University staff members woke up. "Professor Cirrrel?" "Right here, Mike." "So where is here?" "From the smell, I'd say we were in a Compost Recycling and Anal Product (Post-Excretory) Receiving facility." "You mean we're in the C.R.A.P.P.E.R." "You got it. And it seems somebody desperately wants information from us." "How do you figure?" "What else have we to offer? By the way, do you need help undoing your paw cuffs? "Nope. I take it your already out of yours. Where did you pick up that trick?" "The ancients liked to lock things up, so we archeologists need to know how to unlock things. Where did you learn?" "I read a lot. So, what do we do now?" "I want to find out who's involved in this and what they want." "Hmm. Not go to the police? You sound a lot like Doctor Kayngi." "Do you want to go to the police?" "Not really. Being a bookish type, I'm naturally curious." "And we can't let Dr. Kay have all the fun, eh?" "True. Whup! Sounds like our hosts are coming. Better snap the paw-cuffs back on. Wouldn't want them to think we were starting to enjoy ourselves here." The door burst open, flooding the room with light, and the prisoners were hauled to their feet. "We're going for a ride," snarled a wolf in a grey uniform. Cirrel suppressed the urge to ask if the wolf liked doing that with his head out the window. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I told you this place was a dump," said Maxx, poking his head into a ransacked sarcophagus. "Being this close to the city, it's been picked over pretty good." "By amateurs, it seems." replied Kay. She was running her paw over the unadorned carvings on the back wall of the mound's burial chamber. Everything else in the chamber was a shambles as Maxx had indicated, but these carvings were still intact - probably because they were so plain. There was nothing here to interest the average grave robber. "Aha! Here it is!" Dr. Kayngi quickly took the old boot from her pack and pressed the pattern on the heel into some almost invisible depressions on the stone wall. From somewhere to their left, a grating sound was heard and a section of wall swung out. "Wow!" yelled Maxx. "I always love it when you do that! I wonder what we'll find?" He was about to dash into the dark passageway when Kay held him back. She had just noticed newly revealed carvings on the lintel of the secret door. They looked fresher than the others. Slowly she ran her paws over them growing more and more agitated as she did so. Finally she smacked the stone door. "Damn!" "What? What is it?" asked Maxx. "Some sort of trap? What do the carvings say?" Kay growled. "It roughly translates: 'Pardon our dust. During renovation, the Boottadaheadouch Temple Group, Inc. has temporarily moved its supernatural object inventory to its new, posh 'Chit-in-yer-Britches' location on the fashionable Yucky-Tan peninsula. Have a nice day.'" The last carving was unmistakably a Mayan Smiley Face. "Have a nice day?" growled Maxx. "That's not what I'm having!" "Maynard!" yelled Kayngi to the air around her. "If I find out this little stunt is your fault, you're gonna be one dead dead-guy!" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Ah knew ah nevah shoulda come to this den of unrighteousness!" moaned Pat Rabbitson. "Canned-Coon is evil, and the Lord has forsooken me!" "Calm down PR," croaked Pigeon Toad. "I'm sorry your Gowanan Goose-Me Gospel Group accidentally got sent to Hack-yer-Snak, N.J., but screw-ups in the tickets happen alla time." "I tell ya, Toad," wailed the rabbit. "Ah'm gettin' way to old fer these on-the-road problems. Booze is evverawhar. It's enough ta drahv a fur ta drink! Thank the Lord, ah'm way past the age whar wimmen affect me. Ain't had thet urge in years 'n' years." Pat Rabbitson looked wistfully down at his pants. "But we shor did have some good times, didn' we," he whispered. He quickly shook his head. "Sorry Lord, ah apologize. Shouldn't a thunk thet." He glared at Toad. "So whater we gonna do fer music fer the show? Can't have a foot-stompin', paw-clappin' revival type show without music!" "No problemo, PR. I booked us a local group." "So, whodja get?" "You'll love 'em, PR," said Toad. "May I introduce our background band for this week's production of 'Exorcism of the Week', Cheese Louise and the Stooge-Monkeys of Swing!" Three pinstriped primates slid in on their knees in three part harmony. "Helloooooooooo......... "Helloooooooooo......... "Helloooooooooo......... nyuk, nyuk." The rabbit was about to protest when a zaftig mouse in a low cut dress slit from hip to heel pushed through the monkeys. "Hi there, reverend," she cooed. She winked. Pat Rabbitson stared. He looked down at the growing tent in his pants. "IT'S A MERKLE!" |
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| 19. Seriously
Silly "I trust you and your colleague had a pleasant journey, Professor," said the shadow high atop the throne. "Other than the saliva smearing my window and the noise of wolf lips flapping in the slipstream, it was pleasant enough, but you haven't brought us here to critique your private air service, have you Kolonel?" "No. I haven't," said the wolf, leaning forward to reveal himself. When he didn't explain further, Cirrel could see that he was drawing this out for his amusement. It was time to dampen the fun, so he brought his paws out from behind him where they' been cuffed. The paw-cuffs dangled open off one finger. "Only dogs like to be on leashes. I prefer freedom." Cirrel let the cuffs slip off his finger and clatter to the floor. "Now, why are we here?" A low growl came from the thrown. "Do not tempt fate, Professor. You are here at my bidding, and only with my permission will you be allowed to leave!" Mike's cuffs joined Cirrel's on the floor. "Affable fellow, isn't he," said Mike in a low voice. "Staff meetings here must be just about as fun than a barrel of dead monkeys." "If I read you correctly, professor," growled the wolf, "You already know why you're here - at least in part." Cirrel nodded. "The Claw of Karnak." "Exactly! I wish to know what you know of the artifact. My sources tell me that you knew Dr. Kayngi was looking for it, and such an artifact would naturally stimulate your own curiosity as well. Mr. Regan, your colleague, has also helped the good Doctor in the past, and knows best what resources hold relevant knowledge." "And if we choose not to cooperate?" "That would be most unfortunate. Darke Wolf?" A huge wolf shot from the shadows and grabbed Professor Cirrel by the neck, almost lifting him off his feet. "Life can be made most unpleasant, for you, feline. With one squeeze, I could crush the life from you." Mike tapped the snarling wolf's arm. "Um. Mr. Darke Wolf, sir? It's true that if you squeezed now, the Professor would die, but if you do that, you will wish you had died, too." The raccoon pointed down. There, wrapped around the wolf's groin, were inch long claws sprung from the professor's paw. "It's funny how much damage 'death throes' can do." Darke Wolf slowly released his grip, and Cirrel's claws retracted. "You've been a fighter in the past, haven't you," commented the wolf. Cirrel nodded. "You don't mind that I would put up a fight, if I were attacked, do you?" The wolf shook his head. "The meek are no challenge. However, the Kolonel's threat remains. Co-operate or die." Cirrel looked at Mike. "Are you in the mood for dying today?" Mike shook his head. "Not really. I was thinking along the lines of some recreational research." He looked up at the wolf on the throne. "Does this dump access data via computers? Or by some chance, do you actually have a real Library here?" They were quickly show to a room banked with data access terminals, and under the watchful eyes of four rat guards Cirrel used several terminals to access web sites featuring simple Java applet games. One by one, the rat guards dropped behind to play the games, and soon, none were watching the two 'detainees'. "Not the brightest crayons in the box, are they?" commented Mike. "Any dumber, and I'd be tempted to stick 'em in potting soil," replied Cirrel. "However, I wouldn't underestimate the Kolonel or Darke Wolf." He pointed to the screen. "The Kolonel was smart enough to know I wouldn't simply be sitting on my paws while Kay was out gallivanting around the globe. Swiping me gives him access to my discoveries and withholds them from Kay... or so he thinks. We'll see if we can access Kay later. Right now, I want to show you what I have. I put together this file on the Claw of Karnak - references, maps, rumors, anything I could find. I have a list of books you might want to access for further information." Cirrel printed out a list for the raccoon. "So, are we really going to give any of this information to the Kolonel?" "We may have no choice," said Cirrel in a tense voice. "Look at this. It's something I discovered about the Claw last night." Mike read the screen for a while, then whistled. "Not good." "Yeah," agreed Professor Cirrel. "And you want to know what the scary part is? I doubt the Kolonel has any real idea what he's dealing with here." --------------------------------------------------------------------------- 'The things ah have ta deal with', thought the rabbit. "Woo...wooo...woooOO!" A stooge-monkey flew by on a vine. "Hey MOE! Howda ya drive this thing!" A resounding crash shook the jungle around Pat Rabbitson, Pigeon Toad, Cheese Louise, and the two bats who were the recording engineers for this trip. Pat Rabbitson gave his agent a dirty look, but it softened when Cheese Louise sidled up to him. "Don't worry 'bout them, Rev. Honey. My boys may be a few peas short of a casserole when it comes to everything else, but they sure play good music!" The rabbit patter her paw. "Ah'll have ta trust ya on thet one, child." Another crash shook their eye-teeth.. "Hey Moe! Hey Larry! I think I'm STUCK!" "Why you lame-brain! The sound of saws and hammers. "OwOwOwOwOwOwOw!" "Look what ya did to my hammer! Come on, spread out!" A rattling jackhammer. "OhOhOhOhOhOhOh my head!" "Hey, Moe! Try this!" "Good idea, porcupine!" An explosion shot tree trunks and stooge-monkeys everywhere. "At this rate, we ain't nevva gonna get to Chit-in-yer-Britches," moaned Pat Rabbitson, coughing. When the smoke cleared, a blackened Curley Cue wobbled up to the other travelers, eyes closed, paws groping. "Hey Moe! Hey Larry! I'm blind! I can't see!" Pat Rabbitson raised his paws heavenward just as Moe walked up with big log stuck in his eye. "Pipe down, chowder-head! I'll get to the speck in your eye in a minute!" He yanked the log out of his own eye and proceeded to bust Curley over the noggin with it. "OhOhOh... Oh.....Oh! Hey! I can see again!" Pat Rabbitson lowered his paws and stared, dumbfounded. "That was a MERKLE???" |
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| 20. Club Dead,
or "Where to go when a Body is somebody!" Maxx spit the bugs out of his teeth and shut the hatch. "You know, if you'd asked," said Dr. Kayngi, "I might have let you smoke that stinkweed log in the plane." "Mighta been easier to keep it lit too, but the view from the pontoon was great. When flying, there's something magical about the wind in your fur." "And bugs up your nose. Hold still." Kay reached over and pulled a rather colorful winged crawly out of Maxx's left nostril. "Hmm. Don't recognize this species. Maybe it's new." "We could name it Maxximus Snoticus," suggested Cateagle. "The dreaded Booger Bug." Maxx grinned as a beetle flew out of his ear. "I always wanted a pest named after me." Kay pointed to a bright glint in the distance. "Is that the river?" "Yep. That's our landing spot. The Stinkhole River." Maxx reached into his pack and put something on his snout. "What are those," asked Cateagle. "Doze blugs for da Stighoe Ribber." "Pardon?" Maxx removed the plugs. "Nose plugs. Believe me, you'll want them. The Stinkhole is the only known habitat of a rare and particularly bad-tempered fish called the anal striped snail-farter." Kay opened her mouth, but closed it again. "I'm not going to ask. Just pass the plugs." Maxx looked disappointed. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "EEeeEEeeyyyyyaahhhhh!!! Don't sneak up on me like that when I'm working!" Kolonel Crazed Wolf felt his hackles, and most of the rest of his fur, stand on end. "But you're so cute when you're scared," laughed Darke Wolf. "All nice and fluffy - just like a plushie toy." The Kolonel growled and snapped his metal claw. "Does this look like it came out of a freakin' Happy Meal box!?" "My, my, but we're touchy today," continued Darke Wolf. "You still don't actually believe that 'Ghost of Kayngi' message was real, do you Kolonel?" "NO!" Kolonel Crazed shouted, his eyes darting around, before returning to the other wolf. "That's not important, anyway. Have our two bookworms found out anything about the Claw?" "Why yes," replied Darke Wolf. "I took the liberty of tapping their communications. It seems Professor Cirrel has acuminated quite a bit on the Claw of Karnak. I haven't had time to go over all of it, but there are three consistent references to where the Claw might be found. One is the temple in Bang-La-Desh, another site is in Got-Amala, which Cirrel thinks is unlikely, and then there is the third one." "Which is...?" growled the Kolonel. Darke Wolf pointed out the arched stone window of their fake temple headquarters. "Right next door. Chit-in-yer-Briches." The Kolonel looked out the window and suppressed a shiver. He'd never liked that place. Strange lights had been seen there at night, and even during the daytime, the forest choked mounds and pyramids looked forbidding. The locals never went near the place. They said those who did either never came back or were found later wandering around the jungle, totally mad. They said some dark evil lived there - some ominous.... "BOO!" "EEeeEEeeyyyyyaahhhhh!!! Damn you! DARKE WOLF!!" But Darke Wolfe was gone. Only his laughter could be heard receding down the corridor. Which was fine, because a very puffy Kolonel needed some privacy now. He had to change his britches. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cheese Louise stared up at the rotting and vine covered facade of the enormous pyramid mound. A chipped stone sign dangling over the dark entrance read "CLUB DEAD". "Is this place a dump or what!?" She rounded on Pigeon Toad. "You actually booked us into this shit-hole? I thought you said we were going to someplace posh called "Chit-in-yer-Britches'!" "According to the map, this IS Chit-in-yer-Britches." Suddenly an ominous figure in a hooded black cowl glided out of the pyramid entrance. "Hearse parking is to the left," it croaked. "Pine box storage to the right." "A SPOOK!" cried Part Rabbitson. "Roll the tape boys! It's time ta be EXERCISIN!" "Gym facilities are fourth sub-basement, second dungeon to the left," croaked the cowled figure. "Fresh manacles are rented at the dungeon master's office." "No. No! NO!" yelled the rabbit, undoing his tie and loosening his collar. "Ah be girdin my loins ta do mah exercisin' on YOU!" The hooded figure shook his head. "Exercising on me? I'm sorry sir. For that sort of exercising, you want the 'Dying for a Piece' brothel - second level, third door." Pat Rabbitson was hopping mad now. "Ah'll be a doin' no such a thin'! Ah'll have you know, ah'm the right reverent Pat Rabbitson! Ah'm a soldier o' the Almighty!" "A soldier? Oh. You're not a guest then." The corpse pointed a desiccated paw to the right. "Hired security goes to the service barracks behind the formaldehyde pool. Report to the Sergeant without Arms." The black figure turned away toward the dark maw of the pyramid. Pat Rabbitson gawped. "Come back here, ya dog-gnawed bone bag! Ah ain't no hired help!" But just then Pigeon Toad kicked the reverend in the shin - hard. "Shut up, ya Bible-thumpin' bonehead!" he hissed. "We got the opportunity of a lifetime here! I thought this joint was haunted, but not like THIS! We can get enough material from here to keep the tabloids salivating for years! Think of the royalties! Just keep quiet, smile, and don't blow it!" Pigeon Toad turned to the corpse. "Ahem, I think there's been some mistake. We weren't hired as security. We were hired as the entertainment! I'd like to introduce our singer, Miss Cheese Louise." The mouse still looked peeved, but put on a pleasant face and stuck out her chest. The corpse's eyes popped out - literally. "Uh. Sorry, bout that ma'am," it croaked, groping the ground. "Here they are." The corpse popped the eyes back into its hood. "Well, this is a different story," it said. "However, I will need to see your papers." "Our Musician Guild cards?" asked Toad. "No. Your death certificates." Toad swallowed and held up his webbed hands. "Sorry. Must have left them in our other burial shrouds." The corpse shook its head. "I'm sorry, but unless accompanied by a certifiable dead guy, no one, especially live bodies, are allowed in." "Does 'brain-dead' count? What about them?" Toad pointed to the Stooge monkeys. Moe and Larry were engaged in a heated game or paper-rock-scissors using real rocks and Curley was picking his nose with a live porcupine. "They'll do. Welcome to 'Club Dead'." "I thought this place was called Chit-in-yer-Britches," said Toad, pointing to his map. "The new name is part of our new image. You'll not find a finer den of dust and decay anywhere in the world. As entertainers, the expense of your lodging is covered. However, other amenities like toothbrushes or embalming fluid will have to be purchased. We take expired American Depressed, Master of Darkness, or Diner's Blood cards. Please follow me. You will be sharing the 'King' suite with another entertainer." After many confusing twists and turns, the corpse finally unlocked a formidable, iron-bound, wood door and waved them in. "Sumptuous, don't you think?" croaked the corpse. The group stared. Candy wrappers, peanut butter jars, and moldy Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets littered the room. A big lump under the sheets of a large king-sized bed snored away. "This place stinks!" cried Cheese Louise. "Why, thank you," croaked the corpse. "We do like to keep the entertainment happy." "Cool it!" hissed Toad to the mouse. He turned to the corpse. "This will do fine! Well get back to you about our performance schedule and requirements." He shooed the corpse out and shut the door. Everybody started yelling and complaining at once. "CALM DOWN!" yelled Toad. "We're here to make a show, and it's only for a week! But like I said, this one show will be good enough to keep us rolling in cash for years! A posh vacation spot for the deceased. Ha! Who'd have thunk it!" "Okay," groused Cheese Louise, "I'll put up with this crap for a week, but I'm not sleeping in the same bed with that snoring lump, whatever it is." "Fahn bah me, ma'am," came a distinct voice from the bed-lump. It snorted and rolled over. "Do whut ya lahk, but whutevva ya do, don yew deah step on mah blue suede bunnah slippahs!" Toad smiled. "So that's why they call this the 'King' suite." Pat Rabbitson stared. "IT'S A MERKLE!"  |
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| 21. If ya can't
beat 'em... Kay, Cateagle, and Maxx all had their large caliber problem-solvers in the paws and pointed right at the advancing apparition. "Don't come any closer!" shouted Maxx. "Or we'll venerate ya!" "Ventilate," corrected Kay. "Whatever!" The menacing figure continued to advance, so all three furs cut loose with a hail of withering fire - except nothing withered. The black cowled figure merely slowed and finally stopped in front of them. "I am the Welcoming Corpse. I see you have weapons. Are you the new security hires? We've been expecting you for weeks." "The what?" asked Maxx. "The new security hires. You are alive, so I assumed you were them. We need to hire the living for security purposes because they interact better with the other live souls who wish to prowl and poke around our property. You have no idea the hassle - not to mention the lost revenue - we have to endure when live furs come onto the property." "No," answered Kay slowly. "Were not the new security hires." "Ah, well. I had hoped..." The corpse shook its head before continuing. "If you aren't security, then are you with the Pigeon Toad Party?" "No. I'm an Independent voter," said Kay, irritated now, "but sometimes I vote Nail Fungus Party. Is that close enough?" "Sorry, ma'am," croaked the corpse, "but as I told Mr. Toad, all living souls who are visiting 'Club Dead' for legitimate purposes must be accompanied by a real live dead creature." "Where's Maynard when you need him?" muttered Kay turning to look back at the jungle. Then an idea made her smile. When they'd landed on the Stinkhole River, she'd made the mistake of slipping on the pontoon and dousing her foot in the retched smelling water. She'd kept the soaked sock because she was traveling light and it was the only pair she had. Quickly, she pulled the foul sock from her pack and slipped it surreptitiously over her paw. Resting the sock in the crook of her other arm, she turned back around to face the welcoming corpse. "Hey you! Dead guy! Down here!" The corpse looked at the sock puppet. "Ummm. Yes?" "Smell me!" "What?" "Gimme a whiff, Mr. Gruesome. Tell me if you've ever smelled anything as rotten as me!" Reluctantly, the corpse bent down and Kay heard a ragged sniff. "Eeewww." "Thought so. Socco's the name, and I'm as dead as they get. These furs are with me." "Well... I suppose so," mumbled the corpse, "but can you pay?" The sock turned around by itself and looked back at a startled Kay. "Don't look at me. I'm just a foul-mouthed sock!" "Ummm...," Kay was thinking fast and pulling her paw out of what now looked like a possessed sock. "All we've got is American Expresso." "Never leave the haunted castle without it," said the sock, which had now hopped to Kay's shoulder. The corpse shook its head. "That won't do. I'm afraid I'll have to..." "I have an idea," said Cateagle, eyeing the possessed sock. "Yes. Uh. We work for Mr. Socco here. He has much the same problem as you, what with torch bearing peasants wanting to burn down the castle and all. We're Mr. Socco's personal bodyguard, but with the leisurely schedule he's set for himself here we'll have plenty of free time. He might let you hire us on as temporaries." "Oh, would you?" asked the corpse, turning to the sock. "That will please the management no end." The sock looked around. "Why not? It'll give this lot something to do while I'm checking out the babes at the formaldehyde pool." "Excellent!" cried the corpse. "I'll show you to your quarters. Follow me." As the three of them followed the now skipping corpse, Kay turned to the sock on her shoulder. "So who are you?" "I'm Socco! You should know. You named me!" "Okay. Bad question. I meant to ask 'What are you'." "I guess you could call me a poltergeist - though not nearly as bad as the reputation you live ones give us. Thing is, whenever you give a name to an inanimate object around here, it opens a door for one of us to get in. It's a lot better for us to have a physical form. Beats the hell out of just floating around in the ether - although the last time I got into an object wasn't a great experience." "What were you then?" "Um. Let's just say my name was Jocko and leave it at that." --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I can't believe it was that easy." said Mike, brushing a vine from his muzzle as he and Cirrel walked through the jungle. "You forget," answered Professor Cirrel. "Dr. Kayngi escaped from the Kolonel's hideout herself once. She told me all about it." "Yep. It pays to do your homework. Speaking of which, you think the Claw of Karnak is at Chit-in-yer-Britches, eh?" "That's my best guess, and whatever happens, it mustn't fall into the paws of the Kolonel - or paw, I should say." Just then, the jungle opened up and the two older furs found themselves standing before a great mound. "What now? I only pilfered enough food for a few days," said Mike. But even as he spoke, a black figure emerged from a dark hole in the side of the mound. "Looks like this place isn't deserted. We've been noticed," murmured Cirrel, tensing. "Greetings and well....." The figure seemed to slump a bit. "Oh. Looks like we've got a couple more live ones." The corpse crossed its scabby arms with a sigh and launched into the rules of Club Dead in a bored voice. When it had finished, Cirrel and Mike looked to one another. "So we need a certifiable dead fur to accompany us?" asked Cirrel. The Raccoon held up a finger and smiled. Then got the wallet from his back pocket and began to look through it. "I got this from my wife as sort of a joke," he whispered to Cirrel, "but I think it'll work." He pulled out a folded piece of heavy paper and unfolded it. "Ahh. Here it is. I think you'll find this in order." He handed it to the corpse who looked at it for a moment. "But this is a Birth certificate!" croaked the corpse. "Yeah. But look what it says at the bottom." "EXPIRED!?" "Yep. So, I must be dead now, right?" "Um. I guess so," mumbled the corpse, shaking its head. "Well, I suppose I should say 'Welcome to Club Dead' then. However, I must know how you are planning to pay. We take expired credit cards, currency killed by runaway inflation, or any other dead medium of exchange - the more worthless the better." "I'm fresh out of trash," said Cirrel, looking concerned again. "Do you have anything, Mike?" "I don't think... hold on a moment!" Mike rummaged around in the large thigh pockets on his trousers. "Got these from an unfortunate friend, and I've been using these as scratch paper ever since. Almost forgot I had them." He pulled out a small stack of paper.. "Will these do?" "What are they?" "ENRON stock certificates." "Ahhhh! Right this way, sir!" And bowing low, the corpse gestured the two into Club Dead. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "So, did you plant the locator on the professor, Darke Wolf?" "I did, CW." "And?" "As I suspected, they headed straight for Chit-in-yer-Britches." "Have our forces been positioned around the ruins?" "They have." "So.... Now we simply wait for them to do our work for us." The darker of the two wolves shot to his feet. "All Hail the WOLF REVOLUTION!" The howl that followed was blood curdling. It seems Darke Wolf had knocked over his chair onto the Kolonel's toe. Again. |
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| 22. Boot to the
Dead "Security for Club Dead? This is too weird." Maxx looked around. Their accommodations in the security barracks were spacious enough, but there were no toilet facilities. Apparently the dead never needed to take a dump. "Well, there's always the jungle when nature calls." He shook his head and continued to reload the empty clips from his Schlock nine millimeter. Suddenly he stopped, a cartridge halfway to the clip. "Why am I even bothering with this? Might as well be throwing insults at 'em for all the good shooting does." "Too bad you haven't got a good old fashioned .45 auto," commented Cateagle. "I could loan you some of my special loads." The Maine Coon held up a cartridge. "Special Loads?" asked Maxx. "Not sure if I want to know, but what's special about 'em?" "Bullet is a combo-construct." Cateagle tossed one to Maxx. "It has a .17 caliber iron core for those supernaturals allergic to iron, a standard lead body for normies, and a silver jacket for those were-types who have an aversion to silver. Doesn't take care of all the problem critters, but it helps." "You've done this before, haven't you," said Maxx. Cateagle nodded. "Comes with being the good Doctor's pilot. She has this tendency to meet up with all sorts of unsavories." "Keep your sidearm on you, anyway, Maxx," said Kay. "The Dead might not be the only unsavories haunting this place." "So you're saying I'm an unsavory character, is that it?" Kay looked up. There, sitting directly above her on a roof support beam, was her poltergeist inhabited sock, Socco. She frowned. "I thought you were checking out the babes at the pool." "Already did. Talk about a lost cause. The Dead look bad enough in shrouds. Picture one in a thong." "Eeewww!" Maxx grimaced. "Have some respect for the living. We got stomachs that actually work, ya know." "Anyway," said the sock looking down. "I like the view better from here." Kay quickly buttoned up her shirt. "Keep your non-existant eyes to yourself, Socco. I don't mind guys ogling me, but smelly footwear is something else." The sock dropped to the bed next to Kay. "Hey, I took a dip in the formaldehyde pool. I'm as sanitized as they come now. No dirty mind here." "I'll just bet," mumbled Kay. She slapped her ammo clip home and re-holstered her .44 auto-mag. "That's some heavy hardware you got," commented the sock. "Since I helped immensely in keeping you from getting booted off the property, care to let me in on why you're really here? Whatever it is, it's not playing guard for these walking bloat-fly factories." Kay eyed Socco, wondering how much she could tell the thing. Being a resident spook, the poltergeist might have some valuable information on where to look for the Claw of Karnak. "Alright. We're here looking for artifacts. I'm an archeologist." "What? You're a bone-picker!" cried Socco. "I seen a few of those in the past, and they were old, fat guys with pith helmets and knobby knees!" Socco looked Kay up and down. "You got knobs, but they sure ain't your knees!" "Watch it there, Buster. Just 'cause you're my sock doesn't mean you can start playing 'footsie' with me." "Well, excuse me, Doctor. I was merely commenting that your considerable costal convexities are classier than the pitiful patellar protuberances of the previously mentioned professors." "What's he yammering about?" asked Maxx. "Knockers are better than knees," answer Kay. She looked back at the sock. "I'll take that as a compliment instead of a come on, but enough about me. How long have you been floating around these digs? Are there any artifacts worth finding?" "Oh, we have giant stone heads, crystal skulls, golden armor, jewel encrusted sacrificial daggers - you know - the usual crap. What were you looking for?" "We're looking for something with a sordid past and an uncertain future," whispered Kay, ominously. "We're looking...." "Yeah? Yeah?" "We're looking for..." "What? Come on, what!" The sock was leaning forward. "We're looking for the..." "Aww. Spit it out already!" The sock was bouncing up and down. "We're looking for the.... Claw of Karnak! " The sock stopped dead. "Well?" asked Kay. "I..." "Yeah? Yeah?" "I think..." "What? Come on, what!" Kay leaned forward. "I think that's...." "Aww. Spit it out already!" Kay was almost bouncing up and down. "I think that's.... really dumb. What you want that piece of junk for?" Kay stopped dead. Then she smirked. "Okay. Enough overacting from both of us. Just tell me why you think it's junk." "For one thing it's ugly. Dull gray. No jewels. No rings. No sparklies. Nothin'! And it's attached to about the most revolting corpse I've ever seen! All shriveled and mouldy. And smell? The Stinkhole River is the breath of heaven compared to that pile of mummified elephant dung. About the only thing about it that's interesting is its boot." "Its boot? There's only one?" "Yep. Furs have tried to take it off the corpse in the past, but no one's succeeded. I can see why they'd try, too. It's the most stunning cerulean blue I've ever seen. Has a sheen that just won't quit. And the glowing buckle will knock yer eyes out - providing you got eyes to knock out in the first place. In my case, it would just knock me off of me." "Knock you off of you?" "I'm a sock. Remember?" "Right," Kay smirked. Then she cocked her head. "I wonder if the boot I have is the other one." "Oooo. You got a boot too? I was a boot once and it was great! Got to kick butt from here to next Sunday! Lemme see it. Huh? Pleeeease? Besides, I'm a sock, and socks and boots go together!" Rather than suffer through the whole line-by-line overacting bit again, Kay pulled the boot from her pack and dumped it on the bed. "Eeeww. That's a boot? Now this is the sort of foul footwear that would look at home on that corpse." "Maybe that's where it belongs," thought Kay. But then another thought crossed her mind. Beware the Boot of Karnak. Perhaps the Dragon hadn't misread the warning after all. |
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| 23. That's
Entertainment???? "I need to fill you live bodies in on a few things concerning tonight's entertainment," said the entertainment coordinator - a particularly tattered looking road-kill deer named Abby. Her right arm fell off with a clunk. Pat Rabbitson groaned in horror, Pigeon Toad nodded, Elvis winked at Cheese Louise, Cheese melted, and the Stooge Monkeys grabbed their Nachos. Deer Abby picked up her arm and smacked them with it. "Take my advice! None of that in public!" Her left arm fell off. Pat Rabbitson groaned again. "Anyway," continued the disarming doe, "When choosing your numbers remember that the standard contract requires that at least 25 percent of all songs by live vocalists be done with our house band." "House band? Anyone I know?" asked Toad. "Maybe you knew them once. They're deceased now." She pointed to a group that had just stumbled in. "May I introduce the Dead Beats - Moldy, Gassy, Smelly, and Disgusting Lump." "They certainly are," said a green Toad. Pat Rabbitson held his nose and groaned once more. Abby pulled out a performance program with her teeth. "We have a bunch of dead Egyptian embalmers here for a convention this week so we're calling this evening's dance the Tannis Ball. Here's the schedule. The first half will feature our regular house entertainers. Boo's on first, Rot's on second, and I've No Nose's on third." Pat Rabbitson beat his head on the desk. "Where are we!" chorused the Stooge Monkeys, now standing on their heads. "Out in left field." The doe tuned back to the others. "You perform next. Our act announcer, Ivunna Score, usually falls apart by this time and needs to be stitched back together. So, in the second half, Score's tied up, and you have the Ball." The doe's head fell off. Pat Rabbitson heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank Gawd, fer small Merkles!" |
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| 24. Rolling
Right Along. Maxx holstered his Schlock and stood up. "Socco knows where it is, so let's get the Claw and blow this bone-yard." "I just hope it's that easy," Commented Cateagle as he sheathed his Bowie knife. "Where is the Claw kept anyway, Socco?" "They keep the really valuable stuff in a room behind the Manager's Office." The sock jumped to Kay's shoulder. "How you going to get in, Captain?" "We'll figure that out when we get there. I've gotten into all sorts of places designed to keep me out. Let's move." Halfway to the pyramid, a short red, white, and blue hooded ball-like figure bounced up to them, stopped, and ripped off a resounding fart. BRRAAAPP!! Then it started to yammer. "I'm the one who does the lookout! See them come, no matter which route! Den I scampers 'round and farts out! Warning you to run!" BRRAAAPP!! "Foxes come with mean ol' Mausers! Clips of ammo in their trousers! Up 'n' down they hop like Schnauzers! They don' look like fun!" BRRAAAPP!! "Wolves around this place are hidin'. Quiet like, their time they're bidin'. But they'll soon be toward us ridin'. When they do, we're done!" BRRAAAPP!! "Don' know what you'll do wif dem here. But for me I'm gonna get clear. Then I'll drink a bunch more Poot Beer. Fire in my Bumm!" BRRAAAPP!! The little ball of gassy flesh bounced off toward the pyramid while Kay and her crew coughed and tried to wave away the stench. "What was that!" "That was Paul Rear-vere," said Socco. "He's our look-out butt. The warning signal is, one fart if by land, two if by sea." "So what do FIVE farts mean?" coughed Maxx. "Means he's been into the Poot Beer, again." "But *cough* has he really seen something?" said Cateagle. "No doubt," replied Socco. "He's lazy. It usually takes something legitimate to get him up off himself." "Up off himself?" "He's a Butt. Remember?" "Time to call in reinforcements, again, I think," said Kay, whipping out her Sat-linked Palm Pilot. "I wonder if Badger has something up his well-armored sleeve for this smelly situation." --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I wonder where we should start looking for the Claw of Karnak," said Cirrel, closing their Club Dead guest room door behind them. "Manager's Office," replied Mike. Cirrel looked at the raccoon with surprise. "Something you found in your research?" "Nope." The raccoon held up a Club Dead Guest Guide. "Says here 'Valuables, like the Claw of Karnak, can be safely stored in the cavernous vaults behind the manager's office. Please inquire at the customer services desk.'" "Seems almost too easy," mumbled Cirrel. "We haven't gotten past the Customer Services Desk, yet," replied Mike. After much searching, they finally found the Customer Service Desk in the third sub-basement behind the Palmetto tree next to the Shroud-o-Mat. The harried customer service avian in tattered feathers seemed very busy. "Hello, will you hold?... Hello, will you hold?... Hello, will you hold?.... Hello, will you hold?... Hello...." "Ummm...ma'am?" mumbled Mike. The bird grabbed Mike and plastered him to her head. "Hello, will you hold?" "Hello, WILL YOU LET GO?" yelled the raccoon. "We want to see the manager!" "Here," squawked the flustered avian, tossing them a yellowed photograph before answering more phones. "Hello? Will you..." "Well, you did say you wanted to see him," commented Cirrel "There he is." The two looked at the picture. It was of an old sting-ray like fish in 18th century garb hunched over a huge ledger. He was covered in rusty chains and padlocks, and there was calculating look in his beady black eyes. "Who is it? Anything on the back?" asked Cirrel? Mike turned it over. "Yep. Should have known." There, printed in old script, were the words 'Manager - Top-O-The-Heap suite, Club Dead'. Underneath was written. 'We will sell no wine before I've jacked the prices!" It was signed 'Jacob 'Cheap-Skate' Marley'. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ivunna Score, the act announcer, was taking last minute notes before the evening's performance. "All you do is sing?" she asked Cheese Louise. "No exploding body parts or alien creatures slithering out your nose?" "Uhh, I hope not." "Oh well. Maybe you can do a Janna Jackson and pop a few of the audience's eyes out." Ivunna moved to the rabbit. "Your name?" she asked, pencil poised over her pad. "Ahm the Raht Reverund Pat Rabbitson!" "And what do you do?" "Ahm a TV evangelist!" "Right. 'Stand-up comic'. Got it." She turned to the others. "Alright! When I call you, be ready to go out there and knock 'em alive!" A be-sequined Elvis lurched to his feet. "Ah'm. gonna go grab me sum Buffala Wings whal we wait. Anahbody else wunt somethin'?" "We want Gummi-Bears!" piped up the Stooge Monkeys. "No yah don't, boys. Trust me on that." "A Bloody Mary?" squeaked Cheese Louise. Elvis shook his head. "Let's make it real simple, then" said Pigeon Toad. "How 'bout a lump of sugar?" "Fahn," drawled Elvis. "But only if Sugah don' mind. How 'bout you Reverund?" "You got a Whopper with Cheese on it?" asked the rabbit. Elvis looked down at his pants. "I kin always hope." |
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| 25. "Mind
if I Butt in?" You gonna use the Badger Signal, Doctor Kay?" asked Maxx. "That thing's loud enough to raise the dead, and I don't think any of 'em here left a wakeup call." "It would also alert anyone out there that the Badger Brigade was on its way," added Cateagle, looking toward the jungle. "They do make a grand entrance whichever way you call them," commented Kay, punching the code into her Palm Pilot. "Not as great as Chickens in Choppers, but stylish, none the less." She turned to Maxx. "Speaking of flashy entrances, Maxx, have you been practicing what I suggested? If you're good enough, they might just decide to make you into an action figure." Maxx grinned and twirled his Schlock 9mm. "Yep. I been practicing. Let's go check out the pyramid, and on the way, I can show you some of my new moves! Watch this!" Maxx flipped his Schlock behind his back, bounced it off his tail, and caught it in his holster - where it promptly went off. The ricocheting bullet punched a neat hole right through Socco. "Gaaah! Darn it! Ya got me, ya mangy vamint!" yelled Socco, teetering dramatically before falling off Kay's shoulder. The sock jerked spasmodically on the ground and then started to gasp. "I'm dyin'! Dyin', I tell ya! It's gettin' hard to see! Everything's gettin' dark, Maw! Maw? Can you hear me, Maw? Tell Lassie it wasn't her fault! She did the best she could to make an emergency phone outta earwax and leftover coleslaw, but it was too late! She's a good doggie Maw. Don't sell her to the orphanage! Maw? Hello? Maw! Can you hear me? You're breaking up, Maw! Pull yourself back together!" "Get up, Socco," smirked Kay. "Hey! Have some respect for the dead!" croaked the sock. "I'm a Holy Sock now. Can't you see my halo?" "You can't kill a sock, Socco, but I think I'll put another hole in you just for over-acting." "Over-acting! I'll have you know I've done Shakespeare!" replied Socco, hopping to Kay's shoulder again and bending over her chest. "See? I'm the King of Leer." "Knock it off Socco, or I may be forced to use the 'Clothes Dryer' on you!" Socco gasped and nearly fell off Kay's shoulder again. "No! Anything but The Dryer! You have no idea what a Dryer can do to a sock! There a Sock Portal in there! One that leads to a place of burning torment - of everlasting agony! Of Demons and evil spirits! It leads to... to...." "To what! The Kingdom of the Damned?" "Worse," whispered Socco. "The Kingdom of the Darned!" Kay raised her eyes heavenward before pointing to the pyramid. "Just lead on, McDufus." --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cirrel and Mike were led into a sumptuous office - sumptuous, anyway, for something decorated in Early American Mold. A plump, fishy figure draped in chains was hunched over an enormous desk. Looking closer, Cirrel noticed now that the skate was really only a fish head with the two pectoral fins attached. The back end was completely gone. The placard on the desk read 'Jacob Marley - Cheap Skate'. Cirrel cleared his throat and the skate looked up. "Who're you?" he grumbled. "We were thinking about putting something in your vault for safekeeping, but we want to check out the facilities first," answered Cirrel. "Yeah. Right." The skate looked the two of them up and down before motioning them to sit. Then he went back to his ledgers. "Uh. You are the manager, aren't you?" asked Cirrel when the fish looked like he was going to ignore them forever. The skate sighed heavily and set down his quill. "Look. I'm a very busy roly-poly fish head. As it is, I'm going to be very late for my cappuccino date with an oriental female at the local Italian restaurant. We were going to take in a movie. Because of my status, I get in free. I've already missed my dancing and drum lessons, and our staff baseball league hasn't seen me in weeks. "I see you're not wearing a sweater, either," commented Mike. "No time for a fitting," griped the fish head, his chains clunking. "Woulda had some help here if Ebenezer hadn't wussed out after meeting those meddling Yule spooks. Still, I'm doing a hell of a lot better job of managing this place than Karnak ever did." "Karnak used to manage this place before you?" asked Mike. "Mis-manage, is more like it," grumbled the skate. "He couldn't come up with a new idea if it hit him in the head - so I did. A couple of good whaps to the noggin with my No. 8 tie-down chain, and this place was mine. First thing I did was put Stew tubs in the Diet Club wing." "Stew tubs?" "Hot tubs to you live bodies. The dead have this tendency to get a bit mushy in them, so I run the drains right to the kitchens. Add a few spuds, some Lipton Onion Soup Mix, and Presto! Soup's on! Saves a bundle on groceries." "But what about the patrons who get fricasseed!" "Eh? They don't mind. The Diet Club is for those who wanna slim down anyway. They come in as smelly corpses and leave as fashionably anorexic skeletons. Can't beat that now can you? So, wadda you two live bodies really here for? Gonna try for the Boot of Karnak in the vault? Everyone does." At that moment Kay, Maxx, and Cateagle burst into the room, weapons draw and ready for action. "ALRIGHT! EVERYONE FREEZE!" No one moved. Then Maxx's tail twitched. "How was that," he asked, looking at Kay and waving his Schlock around. "Pretty nifty, huh?" "You need to narrow your stance," commented Cateagle. "Otherwise you might bang your Schlock on your Schlong." "Oh, don't be so hard on him," mused Kay, straightening up and holstering her weapon. "He did a lot better this time than at the entrance At least he didn't shoot anyone's nose off out of hand." Maxx grinned. "Hah! So you like it! Eeeehaaa! I'll be famous! Hasbro Adventure Kay Action Figures here I come!" "Doctor Kayngi! So nice to see you," interrupted Cirrel. "You'll pardon Mike and me if we don't whip out our Schlocks in return greeting." "Professor!" cried Kay suddenly noticing them. "What are you doing here?" "Combination vacation and field study - courtesy Kolonel Crazed Wolf." "He fur-napped you! Why that conniving canid!" yelled Kay. "When I get my paws on him..." "... he'll love every minute of it." finished Cateagle. "Remember, this is the Kolonel we're talking about here." "True," nodded Kay. "So I'll knock him out before I beat him up." "I take it you three are here to try for the Boot of Karnak as well?" piped up Marley, a greedy grin on his fishy snout. "Actually, we're here for..." started Kay, but Cirrel cut her off. "Yes, as a matter of fact, they are." Cirrel motioned to Kay to follow his lead. "Yep. We're here for the booty ...errr.. boots, that is," agreed Kay. "Let's see..." Marley made a great show of shuffling papers, making notations, and pecking away at an old-style adding machine. Eventually, the machine spit out a ragged piece of paper. He handed it to Cirrel. "This is your admission fee. Please pay at the door. It allows each of you one attempt to remove the Boot of Karnak. Do not make more than one attempt, and refrain from stealing any other junk in the vaults, otherwise our vault guardian, the Great and Powerful Wizard of Shnoz, will turn you into a hermit crab." The fish head eyed them all. "For some of you, that might be an improvement." He then pressed a shiny black button on his desk, and an ominous black door behind him swung open to reveal a dark, mildewed passage lit by torches. A foul stench billowed forth, making the occupants of the office cough, and evil sounding blorps and gurgles could be heard. The fish head rose, moaned, rattled his chains, and glided toward the forbidding entrance. "We gotta go in there?" asked Maxx, his eyes watering from the fumes. The fish head turned back to them. "Only if you gotta take a dump. This is the bathroom. The entrance to the vault is through a magic portal on the Xerox machine. Just park your bare butt on it and hit 'copy'." They all turned to Kay and grinned. "Ladies first." |
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| 26. What's My
Line? Dr. Kayngi, whip in paw, watched as the last of her 'boys' vanished from the top of the Xerox machine in a puff of smoke that smelled of mimeograph fluid. "Ladies first, my @ss!" she grumbled. "And a nice @ss it is!" came a voice from behind her. She whirled around to see a grinning Jacob Marley drifting back from the bathroom. "Look, Mr. Roly-Poly fish-head," she growled. "If you don't want to be floating around in tonight's soup, I suggest you turn your smelly carcass around and park it back in the sh*tter, pronto!" She cracked her whip, and Marley vanished with a clinking of chains. Kay dropped her drawers and parked her butt. The Xerox machine let a 'Woot!', a toner cartridge shot across the floor, and Kay popped through the portal. She landed with a thump on hard stone. "Damn! And I thought I disliked office equipment before!" she griped, getting up and rubbing her offended posterior before hiking up her trousers. She was looking around for the others when an ominous rumble sounded from behind her. She whipped around and saw a humongous, round boulder rolling down a ramp toward her. "Oh, now that's original!" she cursed as she jumped off the ramp and took off running. She heard the boulder crash into the huge stone slab at the end of the ramp, and chunks of the ceiling fell around her. She got outside the area of falling debris and turned around. To her surprise, a huge, antlered apparition appeared, picked up the boulder, and proceeded to toss it down a long, dark passage. A muffled crash sounded from the far end. "What the...?" She nearly jumped out of her fur when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Quickly, she turned around to see a strikingly wholesome-looking deer corpse with a dazzling white smile. "Hello. I'm Alex TreeBuck, the host down here in the Vaults. Are you here for 'Bowling for Big Bucks', 'In Dire Jeopardy', or the 'You Bet Your Boots of Karnak' show?" "Uh... the 'You Bet Your Boots' show... I think," answered Kay. "This isn't anything like 'Let's Make a Deal', is it?" The buck corpse looked offended and waved a hoof around. "Does this place look like Monty's Hall to you?" "Uh... no," answered Kay, looking around and half expecting some putrefied pooch named Bob Barker to pop out of the stonework asking if the Price of admission was Right. "Well, the 'Bet Your Boots' show is right down this booby-trapped corridor," pointed out Alex. "Then across the narrow, treacherous rope bridge over the boiling lava, past the Village of Lawyers next to the underground Sea of Subpoenas, and into the second cave studio on the right. Have fun, and good luck!" Kay successfully got past the usual poisoned darts, collapsing floors, and spinning blade traps of the corridor and finally caught up with the others by the Village of Lawyers. She eyed the situation. This settlement was going to be a bit tougher to negotiate. "What is it with Karnak and these game shows, anyway?" yelled Kay to Cirrel as she punched her way through a group of habeas corpuses. "I doubt Karnak has anything to do with this," returned Cirrel, knocking out a lawyer with a swift out-of-order motion to the head. "I'm thinking this is all Marley's doing." "That fish certainly has his fingers into a lot of pies," shouted Mike, choking another lawyer with a gag-order. "Fish Fingers. Good name for him," added Maxx, grinning and giving a third lawyer's court-briefs a wedgie. "Come on! Let's get outta here before we get selected for jury duty, or worse," yelled Socco. They all took off in a hail of delaying motions and closing arguments. They barely made it to the 'You Bet Your Boots' studio, only to find it filled to capacity, and the host, Wink Pine-Martindale, already tormenting some contestants. "How are we gonna get rid of him and this audience? We can't swipe anything with this many bodies watching," said Cateagle. Kay nodded. "I've got an idea, follow me!" They all ran out in front of the crowd and Kay pointed to the door. "Hey! Isn't that Regis Philbunny out there?" "Who wants to be a Millionaire!" shouted everyone, and they cleared the studio in two seconds flat only to be mobbed and carried off to court by the frustrated lawyers. Kay had to grab Maxx before he took off, too. "Not so fast, my covetous kitty. Our work here has just begun." They all turned around to face the studio dais. There, on a golden bier sat an ornate sarcophagus. The top was removed and a blue glow issued from inside at one end. It was the sarcophagus of Karnak. "Well," breathed Kay a little nervously. "This is what we came for, so we might as well get to it." "Wait," cautioned Cirrel. "Let's see if we can decipher the writing on the sarcophagus first. Powerful artifacts usually have powerful protections." For nearly an hour after that, Cirrel, Kayngi, and Mike poured over the markings and runes on the sarcophagus while Cateagle stood guard at the door, and Maxx and Socco played a rousing game of Pull-My-Finger Off with a few of the other inanimate mummies lying around the studio. "Well? What have we got?" Kay finally asked. "It's still unclear," mused Cirrel, "But most of this hints at something disastrous happening if the Claw of Karnak is removed from Karnak's mummy." "But we can't leave it here for the Kolonel to find," said Mike. "These runes also say that whoever possesses the Claw will truly be invincible in every sense of the word!" "But if that's so, why is Karnak a smelly old mummy now?" asked Kay. "The runes say 'invincible', not 'immortal'," Mike replied. "Like a wise fur once said, 'When ya gotta go, ya gotta go'." Kay snorted. "If that's true, then why have we got a Club Dead? The bodies here are certainly still hanging around." Mike shrugged. "Maybe they're waiting for the next boat ride across the river Styx. With the world population growing the way it is, if Death hasn't upgraded his dinghy to about the size of the Titanic, there's going to be a bit of a wait." "So what are we going to do about Karnak, the Mumnificent here?" asked Cirrel. All three scholars became thoughtful. What could they do? "Hey, Maxx! No fair!" yelled Socco. "You pulled off the last mummy's finger! It's my turn!" "Is not! Rules say if the mummy farts when you pull its finger you lose a turn! The last mummy you pulled on damn near exploded! That means I get two turns!" "Does not!" "Does too!" "BOYS!" yelled Kay, looking up at them sharply. "Will you put a SOCK in it? We're trying to think...." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at the others. "THAT'S IT!" she yelled. "That's what we can do with the Claw of Karnak!" She turned to Maxx and Socco. "Oh, Socco?" Kay sing-songed. "Will you come over here for a minute?" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "And I say this idea STINKS! Talk about halitosis!" The words were coming from Karnak's mummified mouth, but the voice was all Socco. "It's the only way we can get the Claw of Karnak outta here," said Kay, stuffing a corner of Socco back into the mummy's mouth. "We can't remove the Claw from Karnak's mummy, but we can remove Karnak's mummy from this temple, Claw, Boot, and all! And quit your griping. Karnak doesn't smell half as bad as you let on. They must have sanitized him for the Bet your Boots show." "He still stinks, I say." "How does that look," asked Cirrel, stepping back. To disguise Karnak's mummy, he'd found and wrapped the mummy in a natty looking tapestry of Pharaoh Two-Ton Comen, the Egyptian ruler who had popularized fatted calf pasteries called Cow Pies. "Not too bad," commented Maxx. "The Toga Look is a bit dated as fashions go, but it covers up the Boot and we can still haul him around by the arms." He turned to Cirrel. "Are you sure we can make Karnak look like a live dead-guy instead of a dead dead-guy?" Kay grabbed the back of the mummy's head and turned it toward Maxx. "You dare doubt my abilities, mortal?" said the mummy in Socco's voice. "Eep!" Maxx jumped back a step. "That's just too weird." "But it works," said Kay. She pushed the mummy's head forward again. "Too bad you can't just possess Karnak's mummy, Socco. That would be so much easier." "I'm into inanimate objects, boss, not formerly animated ones. Them's the rules." "I know," answered Kay. "You just try to follow my lead and stay in character until we get outta here." "No problemo, boss," quipped the sock. "By the way, the view from here is even better than from your shoulder." One of Karnak's eyes fell out and dropped down Kay's cleavage. "And it's getting better all the time!" |
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| 27. Let's get
together some time! "Oh yeah! I got my eye on you, pretty lady!" quipped Socco. Kay fished Karnak's eyeball from her cleavage and stuffed it back into the mummy's socket. "Watch it there, Mister!" "Hey! That's exactly what I was doing!" Kayngi gave the mummy's head a smack. "Enough of that! We gotta get you and this walking ad for Band-Aids outta here." Suddenly the Karnak's head started revolving madly on its neck. "Whoa! Looks like some of Karnak's neural pathways still work!" cried Socco. The mummy's paw flew up and smacked the spinning head, which stopped with a jolt sending dust and bits of bandage flying everywhere. "Did you just do that, Socco?" asked Kay, startled. "Yeah!" replied the sock. "Karnak's spinal cord is exposed in the back of the mouth here and if I press on it just so..." Karnak's finger flew up and lodged in its left eye socket. "...you can poke your own eye out. That's certainly a useful skill," drawled Kay. "I was trying to pick my nose!" replied Socco. "Hey, I was close! These aren't the best controls back here. It's not like I got a PlayStation joystick or anything." "Do you think you might be able to get enough control over the mummy to operate it independently? That would certainly be easier than us hauling him around by his @ss." "Dunno. Why don't we give walking a try?" replied the sock. Maxx and Kay stood Karnak's mummy up on it feet. "Ready?" "Nope. But that never stopped me before," said Socco. "Let 'er rip!" Max and Kay let go and stepped back. That the mummy didn't fall over right a way looked promising. "Okay. One foot in front of the other," said Socco. Slowly, the left foot slid forward... and kept sliding. "Uh oh! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!" yelled Socco. Arms flailing slowly, the mummy's leg slid forward until, with a plop, it did the splits. "Oooo. I'm glad this body's dead," mumbled the sock. "Otherwise, this would really hurt." "Up you go, Socco," said Kay hauling the mummy back to its feet. "Mikhail Bear-yshnikov you ain't, but it's probably the first time Karnak's been up and about in a couple centuries. Keep practicing." After a few more tries, Socco could walk jerkily and with arms held forward for balance. "Ya know, Socco, you walk exactly like the mummies did from those bad 'B' movies of the 50s." "Of course! It's called the Imhotep Two-Step. All the mummies are doing it." Socco struck a Travolta pose, knocked over a light stand, and nearly keeled over. "Whoa there, hot-stuff," admonished Kay. "Don't fall down and knock yer block off. That'll give 'Break-dancing' a whole new meaning." "Don't worry, boss," laughed Socco. He tried a hip wiggle and almost succeeded. "I can only get better." "Well, if we want to keep body and soul together - or in Socco's case, body and footware together - we better get moving," said Cateagle. "No telling when those parasitic lawyers will be back looking for new clients to suck dry." They made it all the way back to the 'Bowling for Big Bucks' bowling alley before they ran into real trouble. Off to one side in a large vaulted hall sat the 'Exit' sign, but when they moved toward it, a screeching and groaning alarm went off, and from a dais in the center of the hall there sprouted a giant, flaming (and rather big-snouted) apparition. "WHO SEEKS TO PASS THE GREAT AND POWERFUL WIZARD OF SCHNOZ WITH THAT WHICH DOES NOT BELONG TO THEM?" "Uh oh. It looks pissed," whispered Maxx. "YOU BET, I'M PISSED, SHORT STUFF! HERE I AM - BRAIN THE SIZE OF A PLANET - AND WHAT AM I DOING? PLAYING HALL MONITOR FOR SOME DEAD FISH GUY! YOU CALL THAT FULFILLING? BECAUSE I DON'T!" "Where have I heard that line before?" said Kayngi. "NEVER MIND THAT! PREPARE TO BE TURNED INTO SHELL-LESS CRUSTACEANS THAT TASTE GREAT WHEN BAKED AT 350 DEGREES FOR 30 MINUTES AND THEN SERVED WITH A LOVELY RED SEAFOOD SAUCE ON LITTLE PLATES... WITH CUTE LITTLE FORKS... AND DOILIES. MUSTN'T FORGET THE DOILIES. YOU KNOW, THE NICE LITTLE FRILLY ONES." "Great. We're about to be fricasseed by the Betty Crocker-spaniel from Hell." "OH! AND JUST IGNORE THOSE STUPID LITTLE THINGS RUNNING THE CONTROL BOOTH OVER THERE!" "Ooookaaayyy," mumbled Kayngi. She dashed to a small alcove off to one side of the chamber, whipped aside the curtain, grabbed the Cowardly Lion, Tin Man, and Scarecrow and duct-taped them to the ceiling. Then she pressed the fat, red button that said 'Do Not Press' and the fiery apparition disappeared in a flashback to the '40s. "We should be fine now," said Kayngi. "I don't think so," mumbled Cirrel, looking back to the Big Bucks bowling alley. From the far end a low rumbling could be heard along with faint cries of "I'll see you in court for this!" "I think it's safe to say that there is only one thing left to say," said Mike. "RUN FOR IT!" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Dead-Beats dragged their sorry, rotten-fruit splattered butts back into the off-stage ready room. "Man, that's a pretty dead crowd out there tonight," mumbled Moldy. "What do you mean 'pretty dead'?" squeaked Cheese Louise. "They're all the way dead!" "No, I meant dead as in dead-dead! It's gotta be a tough crowd when the only thing you hear after a number is the sound of maggots chewing." Cheese Louise looked pleadingly towards the others. "Don worrah yor pretty lil head, there ma'am," drawled Elvis. "Ah'm on afta thuh break, an if 'Heartbreak Hotel' can't warm 'em up, Ah'll eat mah shorts." He snapped the waistband of his oversized briefs. "Banana flavored. Mah favorite. Jest in case." Pigeon Toad shook his head. "Looks like this is going to be one tough gig. Damn! If this craziness keeps up, even the National Enquirer won't believe us! How are we gonna make any money off this deal if that happens?" Pat Rabbitson struck a haughty pose. "Ah knew it! Ah knew it! You is playin' with the sin o' averice, Mr. Toad! We shoulda been tryin' ta save these pore lost souls instead o' tryin' to make money offa them!" "Hey, Mr. My-Poop-Don't-Stink," yelled Moldy. "We aren't lost souls! We're just on hold!" "And bein' on hold ain't Hell?" replied the rabbit. Disgusting Lump looked blearily at Moldy. "He's got something there." "That's just what's left of his Whopper." "Oh." Moldy turned back to the reverend. "Be it hell or not, it doesn't matter. Like I told ya, we're beyond saving!" "NoOOOOoo one is beyond savin'!" cried Pat Rabbitson in his best evangelical voice. Moldy whipped out his wallet and fished out a large, ornate piece of parchment. "I am. See? Our destination is already stamped on the ticket. 'Admit One to Hell'." Pat Rabbitson looked at the ticket header. "The River Styx Ferry and Charter Fishing Boat Service?! Ya gotta be kiddin'!" "Nope," answered Moldy. "When it finally comes our turn to board, I'm gonna catch me a mess of fish on the way over. Barbeques and fish fries are big in Hell, but ya gotta bring your own. Heaven already has two fish that can feed a zillion furs." "Well, Ah'm gonna do somethin' about this." Pat Rabbitson reached into his pocket, pulled out a pen, crossed out 'Hell' on the ticket, and wrote in 'Heaven'. Then he held up the pen. "Lahk Ah said, no one is beyond savin'. One flic o' mah Bic an' you're headed for the promised land!" Moldy looked to Gassy and Smelly. "Hey! Can he do that? I thought there was a commandment that said 'Thou shalt not use crappy, cheap pens to cross out official stuff on really important documents and then write in a bunch of other stuff that's really a lie because it wasn't there in the first place.'" "There was," answered Smelly. "It was on the Third Tablet - the Fine Print Tablet - the one Moses dropped on the way down from the mountain because it weighed a ton." "What does thet mean?" asked Pat Rabbitson, looking nervous. "Am Ah in trouble now?" "I dunno," said Smelly, grinning evilly. "You'll have to talk to one of our lawyers." "Yep," croaked Toad, leaning toward the reverend. "You're in trouble." But Pat Rabbitson wasn't listening. He was already praying. What he needed now was a real merkle. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mapper hit the ground next to the pyramid first (as usual) and ditched the paraglider. As the rest of his regulars hit dirt, he barked out deployment orders and quickly turned to watch the newly modified insertion capsule homing in on their position. It popped its shell, and the cargo pod shot out, then deployed its chutes. On target, it set down in the clearing whose perimeter was now guarded by heavily armed and armored Badgers. The cargo pod hatch popped and out whizzed Dr. Hawking in a newly modified combat chair followed by a white Tiger in combat fatigues. "So how'd it go, Doctor?" asked Mapper when they reached him. "eeooryoeeffessoooeeeooo!" Mapper turned to the white tiger and they shook paws. "I still don't see how you can understand him so well, Tigermark, but glad you could get a substitute for your air show appearance. It's good to have you with us as interpreter. So, what did the good Doctor say?" "It was either 'Damn! My hide's in the crapper!' or 'Damn fine ride, Mister Mapper!'" Tigermark grinned. "With practice, it's gotten a little easier to understand him. Glad to be of service. That new cargo capsule of yours will be a big asset to you guys if you ever need to bring in heavy armament. Speaking of which, what's our situation?" "Radar's doing a quick electronic/IR sweep of the area," reported Mapper. "Doctor Kayngi's satellite message mentioned the possibility of large numbers of hostiles." Just then, they heard a badger yell 'Halt!' Everyone turned to see a black-cowled figure moving toward them from the entrance of the pyramid. "Welcome to Club Dead. I am...." Massive fire blew his head off. "... not getting paid enough for this crap!" finished the flying head. "That's it! I quit! Let someone else deal with the clueless newbies!" The head landed with a thump, rolled back to the entrance, and disappeared. Mapper and the others stared after it. "Looks like we got a situation here." --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "What'll we do about this situation?" asked Dark Wolf. Kolonel Crazed Wolf looked at the message and cursed. "The Badger Brigade? Rats! I need this like I need a hole in the head!" "Hokay, boss!" Several hundred rounds ricocheted around the chamber before the Kolonel finally shouted "BELAY THAT LAST ORDER!" "Is it safe?" asked Darke Wolf from under a table. "You really gotta do something about their unwavering obedience." The Kolonel emerged from behind a bullet-riddled filing cabinet, muttering. "Stupid rats." He sat back down at the table and Dark wolf took the chair opposite him. The Kolonel looked at the note one more time before he tossed it aside and tried to scratch the itch under the steel protector covering his injured right toe. "Well, there's nothing else to do. We gotta head over and lead an attack. I can't risk them making it out of there with the Claw of Karnak! Let's move!" Darke Wolf shot to his feet. "All hail the wolf revolution!" The blood curdling howl that followed could only mean that Darke Wolf had knocked the table over... ...onto the Kolonel's other toe. |
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| 28. Brief
Interlude. Figures moved stealthily through the darkening jungle. The cover of the coming night would only aid in their cause... with a few notable exceptions. "RRRrrrooooooweeeeaaaaAAHHHOOOOOooooowww!!! RATS! My toe! Why am I cursed with having to have my hideourt in this uncivilized JUNGLE! These roots are killing me!" In an instant, thousands of rats in dozers had flattened half the forest, built a strip mall, a used car lot, and a highway interchange before the Kolonel could halt them. "KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY! Stupid rats!" He gingerly put weight back on the injured toe. "Sorry about dropping the table on your other toe Kolonel," said Darke Wolf. "Now if you'd only take my suggestion about wearing some boots..." "Like I already told you, Dark Wolf," growled the Kolonel. "They haven't made a boot yet that's good enough for me! Boots are the best part of the uniform and I'm gonna be a world conqueror soon! Any boots I wear gotta be the best of the best!" "Suit yourself, Kolonel." "Damn right, I will." The Kolonel's toe hit another hidden root, and a set of McDonald's arches shot into the night sky. | |||
