A note from the author: The character of Godzilla Joe was in large part based on my old friend Joseph P. Kervin. He was a great friend and a great writer, whom I credit with kick-starting my own attempts at prose. I hope that if he reads this, he’ll forgive me for lending his name, his job, and even his couch to the biggest loser in the story.

THE CONCLUSION OF THE THIRD STORY, “THE NAUGHAHYDE CAGE”

WEDNESDAY

0700

o Lucas and Sally had gone back to her house, where they fell asleep watching TV and absolutely nothing remotely carnal happened.

The next morning when they arrived at work, the plant was once again idle. A crowd was gathered around the front door, where Officer Lakshiminaryanan was apparently trying to maintain order. Lucas cornered him and asked what was going on.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Gusher. A body was found ripped to shreds this morning. Umm, some guy named Weinerdog von Halfwit. The Grand Master of something."

Lucas felt Sally squeeze his hand. "You mean Wyandotte von Halfling, the plant manager?" he asked.

"Hmm. I'm not sure. What does that say?" Officer Lakshiminaryanan held out his enormous binder so that Lucas could read from it.

"It says Wyandotte von Halfling, plant manager." "Yep, that's what I thought. How did you know him?" "He was the plant manager." Lucas was beginning to wonder how this man managed to get up in the morning without getting lost. "Yeah, and?"

Sigh. "That means he was my boss, you moron."

"Oh. Oh yeah. Officer Lakshiminaryanan smiled goofily and hit himself in the head. "Okay. Thanks." He turned to Sally.

"What he said," she snapped, before the cop could ask her any questions. She grabbed Lucas and, sheltered by his bulk, ran through the front door and upstairs to her office.

Once they were safely inside, Sally collapsed against Lucas, sobbing. Lucas, still unused to dealing with people, comforted her the best he could. Judging from the way she was carrying on, he guessed it wasn't good enough.

"Uhh, can I get you something?"

Sally raised her head and looked at him with tear-stained eyes. "He was my uncle, Lucas."

"Who, Mr. von Halfling?"

"Poor Uncle Wyandotte!" She resumed her crying, burying her face in his stomach. He was beginning to worry about whether his shirt would survive this. He only had three, and wasn't anxious to lose one.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," said Sally, wiping her eyes and trying to regain a modicum of composure.

Officer Lakshiminaryanan entered, holding a tiny golden object between his thumb and forefinger. "Sorry to bother you again, but I was wondering if either of you recognized this." He held the object out; it looked like a small pendant of some sort.

"It looks like a small pendant of some sort," Lucas said. Sally held out her hand. "Let me see that." She examined it closely for a moment, then said, "It's a Chi Naugha pendant."

"Are you sure?" asked the cop.

She held it about an inch-and-a-half from his face. "What does that say?"

"Umm, Chi Naugha?"

"Damn right." She put the pendant in his hand. "Maybe you should go over there and arrest somebody."

Officer Lakshiminaryanan looked, as always, confused. "Over where?"

"The Chi Naugha house." The cop did not so much as twitch. "At Mizell University." No response. "In Mizell." Nothing. "Alabama."

"Oh, okay! Good idea! Yeah! I'll get right on that!" Officer Lakshiminaryanan ran out of the office, turned the wrong way in the hall, turned around, took off at full speed, and fell down the stairs.

Lucas and Sally just looked at each other for a moment.

"So," Lucas finally said. "You want to come back to my place?"

"Sure."

0730

Angus MacAngus was, by nature and habit, an early riser, and when Angus got up, everybody got up. Thus, the eleven-truck caravan carrying the Edinburgh Tabernacle Swingers was on the road by dawn, and hopelessly lost two hours later.

"Other side, ye daft git!" Angus yelled at the driver, Lewis. Lewis was Angus' cousin and lead electric trombone in the band. He was a handyman, and accountant, and a general jack-of-all-trades. One thing he couldn't seem to do, though, was drive on the right-hand side of the road.

"Do you wanta bloody drive?" he yelled back at Angus. As always before a show, Angus was in a foul mood, which had rubbed off on Lewis. The two had been screaming back and forth since they'd set out this morning. This was why no one ever rode with Angus and Lewis.

"Shut yer festerin' gob and drive! Aaaagh!" This last scream was prompted by an old black Dodge pickup barreling past them on the left, nearly forcing them off the road. On the tailgate of the truck were peeling red sticker-letters that spelled out PIG BLOOD.

Between hanging on for dear life and screaming ancient Caledonian obscenities, Angus MacAngus recognized the name as belonging to the band that had woken him the previous day.

Then and there, he vowed that this "Pig Blood" would pay, and pay dearly.

0745

"You know," Sally said, "these things are even better warmed-up."

Lucas looked up from his can of beans and said seriously, "Someone else told me that once, but I never got around to trying it out."

They ate in silence for a while, sharing water from Lucas' one cup. When they were finished, Lucas washed the cup and spoons and turned to Sally. "So what do you want to do?"

"I think I should go to the university. To the Chi Naugha house."

"Why? Shouldn't we let the police handle it?"

She smiled ruefully. "Lucas, you've seen what kind of police are on the job."

Laughing, Lucas said, "Alright. But you're not going by yourself."

"You sure you want to come along?"

"Of course."

0830

The remaining members of Pig Blood stood in a circle in Bubbles' uncle's pasture. Sweetie-pie lay between them, still alive but paralyzed from roughly the eyeballs down. His body had been decorated with hermetic symbols and dark, eldritch runes. There were a great many flowers strewn about. For some reason, the book Bubbles had (So You Want to Summon Lovecraftian Evils from Beyond the Stars, by David Portugal) said that Nyarlathotep was very partial to flowers.

Winky began reading the incantation while Bubbles and Tank knelt with their hands over Sweetie-pie's inert form. A pink mist began coalescing over the four of them, and the exploding skull tattooed on Sweetie-pie's forehead started to glow.

"Y'know," said Bubbles, looking around nervously, "I don't remember any of this last time we summoned the Crawling Chaos. I mean, didn't we do it at night that time? And there were all these howls and gibbers from the souls of the damned? This just doesn't seem right, pink mist and all."

"Actually, that color's Sunset Rose."

"Shut up, Tank." Winky flipped back a couple of pages. "Oh, hell," he said, somewhat less than reassuringly.

"What?" asked Bubbles, as the mist began to converge into a more-or-less humanoid form.

"There's a page missing. We've been doing the wrong ritual."

"Well, what've we been summoning?"

"ME," a high, nasal, yet undeniably infernal voice said. A small, impeccably-dressed being was standing on Sweetie-pie's chest.

"Good Lord," said Winky. "It's…Sucmeoth."

"The Walking Perfume Shop?" Bubbles asked.

"The Mincing Gay-Bar Loiterer?" Tank inquired.

"THE EVIL PERVERTER OF INNOCENT LITTLE BOYS!” Sucmeoth shrieked as gales of unspeakable tittering erupted from it. After a moment, it seemed to gain control of itself, and stepped lightly off of Sweetie-pie. "MMM, I LIKE THIS ONE," it said. "I'LL TAKE IT." Sweetie-pie began to dissolve into a luminous pink--Sunset Rose--mist.

"NOW," the effeminate Elder God said, turning to the three remaining mortals, "I AM WELL-PLEASED WITH YOUR SACRIFICE, SO I’LL REPLACE HIM. CAN’T HAVE THE BAND FALLING APART JUST AS IT’S COMING TOGETHER NOW, CAN WE?" It began fading, adding to the growing cloud of mist. "I'LL BE IN TOUCH. TA-TA FOR NOW."

After a few minutes, the mist cleared to reveal a small, slim Italian wearing skin-tight matador pants and a billowy white shirt open to the navel. His chest was covered in hair and old chains.

He tossed his long, curly, jet-black hair. Winky groaned despairingly. He fingered his pencil-thin mustache. Bubbles sat and cried openly. He adjusted his crotch. Tank moaned lustfully and fainted.

Finally, he spoke. "Bonjorno," he said. "I am il Monstro."

1100

It was an altogether ordinary-looking house, two stories of red brick with two large white columns flanking the broad porch. Two broad wings, each with numerous curtained windows, faced the street on either side. All in all, it was a perfectly average sorority house for a small Southern college.

Still, tales had been told of the place since the Chi Naughas had moved in fifteen years ago. It was rumored that the Great Sigma Nu Massacre of 1987 had been due to the Chi Naugha housemother's being fed up with the unending parade of Camaros, Cherokees, and other frat-boy modes of transport. The housemother herself, known only as the Argentine, was a figure of legend in Mizell, never seen and rarely discussed.

Finally, sick of expository paragraphs, Lucas knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately, revealing a statuesque blonde in a very sheer teddy.

"Yeah?"

Sally lifted Lucas' jaw back into place and said, "We'd like to speak with the Argentine, please."

The girl twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "Yeah, well, like, she's not seein' anybody today."

"This is important."

"Yeah, I'm like so sure. Buh-bye." The girl slammed the door.

Sally was furious; she was about to start pounding on the door again when a voice behind them called out, "Stand aside, please, stand aside. Comin' through, make a hole." She and Lucas turned to see a figure in full riot gear coming toward them.

The figure lifted its visor and they recognized Sgt. Lakshiminaryanan. "Oh, hey, Mr. Gusher, Ms. Bench. I didn't know y'all were comin', too. We could've rode in together." He lowered his visor and beat loudly upon the door with his nightstick. "Open up, please. This is the police," he shouted from behind his plexiglass riot shield.

When the blonde opened the door, he pushed past her and walked into the house, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, Lucas and Sally heard a high, girlish scream, which was abruptly cut off. Then the door opened again, and the blonde smiled at them, licking the blood from her fingers suggestively. "Leave," she said.

1110

Death had been crying for over an hour. In between bouts of sobbing, she had been telling the Argentine about her marital problems. All the while, the Argentine listened carefully, providing what comfort she could. Having never known Death as a female, let alone a large mobile piece of cheese, the Queen of the Werewolf Whores was fascinated by her friend's behavior.

Finally, the crying and the story both ended, and Death asked, "What should I do?"

The Argentine looked at her friend and smiled. "I'm not sure what to tell you," she said, stroking Death's thinning hair. "I've never had this sort of problem. Hong Wang's mortally afraid of me, you see." She glanced at her husband, who was scribbling on a Naughahyde curtain with a crayon. "Use the paper, dear," she growled in a tone of loving menace.

"But I don't think I can make Dances afraid of me," answered Death, wiping her eye.

"No, you probably can't, from what I've heard of him. Let me ask you this: do you still love him?"

"Yes," Death snuffled.

"Then why don't you give it one more day? Come to the party tonight, enjoy yourself, and sleep on it. If you still want him dead in the morning, I'll send some of my girls out, alright?"

Death smiled, then laughed and hugged her friend. "Thank you so much, Arantxa."

1200

The Edinburgh Tabernacle Swingers finally arrived at Perky Saizal's antebellum mansion, seven miles out of town. They were tired, hungry, behind schedule, and collectively in a very foul mood.

The band began setting up their elaborate stage while Angus and Lewis went to speak with Saizal.

Shrubberies towered on either side of the path, each cut into an odd, elongated, asymmetrical shape. "What d'ye supposed they're meant to be, Lewis?"

"Ach, I'm not sure. It looks like...oh dear God, Angus. They're bleedin' rubber chickens."

1230

Sally and Lucas were sitting in Subway picking at their lunch. "Now what do you want to do?" Lucas asked.

"I don't know, Lucas. I suppose I should go out to Perky's and let him know what happened to Uncle Wyandotte."

"Perky Saizal?"

"Of course. How many Perkies do you know?"

"It's not that. It's just, well, maybe I shouldn't go out there."

"Why not?"

"Well, you did say that he had a ten-thousand-dollar bounty out on me."

Sally laughed. "Oh, Lucas, that was years ago. I'm sure he's forgotten all about that."

Lucas looked at her, then smiled weakly. "I guess I must seem a little silly, huh?"

"Just a little." Sally reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I guess so. This sandwich sucks."

1237

"So where the hell's Godzilla Joe?" Bubbles asked. They were sitting in their manager's driveway, not too far from the Saizal estate.

"I don't know, man," replied Winky, trying to avoid noticing Tank and il Monstro. Given the way they were rolling around the yard, locked in their lustful embrace, it was difficult not to notice. They looked, Winky thought, like a couple of very gay, very athletic, and very wired shaved hamsters. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I just don't know."

"Screw this," Bubbles grumbled, and kicked Godzilla Joe's front door in. At least, he kicked the top half in; the bottom was held in place by the black leather couch that for some reason was sitting across the doorway. "Freakin' Godzilla Joe." Pressing his shoulder to the couch, he turned it over and pushed it out of the way.

Winky followed him in, jumping out of the way as Tank and il Monstro shot past him and up the stairs to the loft where Godzilla Joe slept. The house was soon filled with the sounds of two small gay entities doing unimaginable things to each other.

1300

"So what are the hedges supposed to be?" asked Lucas.

"Believe it or not," Sally answered, "rubber chickens."

"I believe it. It's a pretty fair likeness."

They were walking along the gravel path around Perky Saizal's mansion, unknowingly taking the same route Angus and Lewis had followed an hour before. Suddenly, Sally stopped and looked up at Lucas.

"What?" he asked.

"Lucas, I have to tell you something. I...I wanted to tell you before...actually, that's a lie. I didn't want to tell you. I should have, but I didn't want to. Please don't be mad at me." Her expression was pleading.

His expression was merely baffled. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Lucas, a while back...I was married to Perky. Just for a few months, and it was years ago."

Lucas was speechless for a moment. Then he looked her straight in the eye and asked, "So?"

It was Sally's turn to be speechless, but it only lasted a second or so. "What do you mean, 'So?'" she demanded. "That was very hard for me to tell you, you jerk! You could at least have the decency to be upset!"

"Why should I be upset? Whatever you did before doesn't matter. I'm not going to think any less of you because you-"

They were suddenly interrupted by two men in kilts walking angrily in the opposite direction. When Lucas asked if they'd seen Perky Saizal, the taller of the two glared at him and yelled, "Aye, that I have, and may God tear the verra gonads from 'is father's corpse!" Then he descended into a torrent of what Lucas could only assume was Gaelic profanity.

"Um, thanks," Lucas muttered at the men's backs as they stomped off.

"Lucas," Sally said wonderingly, "that was Angus MacAngus."

1305

"Sally! Well I'll be dipped! How you doin'?" Perky Saizal rose from his inflatable sea monster and walked over to greet them. There was no swimming pool in sight; the inflatable sea monster had apparently run aground millions of years ago when the shallow primeval inflatable sea had covered all of southeastern North America.

"Y'all like my sea monster?" Perky asked, beaming. I got it yesterday at Wal-Mart. Come on, have a seat. Who's yer friend, Sally?"

"You remember Lucas Gusher, Perky."

Perky squinted hard at Lucas, then laughed. "Aw, that's funny. This big ol' boy ain't no Lucas Gusher. Why ol' Lucas wasn't even big enough to squish between yer fingers. B'lieve me, I woulda done it." He settled back onto his sea monster, chuckling. "Now, for real, Tex. What's yer name?"

Lucas knelt down and looked straight at Perky. "Remember when you tied me to the hood of your car and raced down the interstate all night because I let you cheat off my chemistry test and we both failed?"

Perky's face underwent an extraordinary series of transformations in the two or three seconds after Lucas' question. Finally, it seemed to settle on an angry sort of bemusement as he pulled an immense silver-plated revolver from under his sea monster and pointed it at the larger man. "Well I'll be a three-peckered billy goat. Looks like I'll be collecting that bounty."

1306

"I thought you were sending for me later," said Godzilla Joe. He was visibly terrified and sweating profusely.

The Argentine shifted a bit on her couch and smiled at him. "Maybe I just wanted o sit and chat with my old friend Godzilla Joe. It's been so long, hasn't it? Since we lived together?"

"Uhh, well, actually, you lived with my parents. When you were an exchange student. It's been a while."

"We were in high school then, Joe. We were so young and innocent." She paused to look at her nails, which he was disturbed to note were now distinctly claw-like. "For a while, anyway."

He thought he knew where this was going. The two werehookers behind him, smelling his fear, wrinkled their noses. He didn't answer.

"Oh, don't look so worried, Joe. I got over that little crush a long time ago. Besides, you opened quite a few doors for me." Bored with her nails, she stared at him, a disconcerting and unreadable expression on her face. "Have you ever wondered how all this," she gestured grandly around her, "came about?"

He blinked roughly eighty-five times. "Well, I figured this much Naughahyde, you must have hit every flea market--"

"Not the Naughahyde, idiot!" the Argentine screamed, launching forward in her chair and baring her now-fanged teeth in a predatory grimace. Then she seemed to regain a bit of her self-control. "Not the Naughahyde, Joe. The whole Queen of the Werewolf Whores aspect of my life. Indirectly, Joe, you caused it."

1307

In two minutes, a lot can happen.

In two minutes, a man can go from a position of complete control to one of abject fear. He can have his gun ripped from his hand and be pushed across the yard. He can develop an expression of ridiculous surprise to replace the leering triumph so recently departed. His life can flash before his eyes as his hulking nemesis, the object of his occasional hatred for seventeen years, stands and approaches him, blocking sun and topiary alike with his bulk. He can hear his ex-wife yelling at him. He can puncture his new sea monster, inadvertently and without malice aforethought.

He can do al these things and still have over a minute and a half to sulk, which is exactly what Spanky Saizal had been doing.

When he spoke, it was in a venomous little mumble. "You work for me?" he venomously, mumblingly asked.

"Yes," answered Lucas.

"How about you?" Perky didn't bother looking at Sally.

"You know I do. You just hired me a few days ago"

"Then," Perky started. An involuntary, evil little grin was causing the corners of his mouth to twitch uncontrollably. "Then you're both fired." He giggled and looked at his feet.

Neither Lucas nor Sally said anything.

"And you're buying me a new sea monster."

1308

"When you deflowered me, you had no idea what you set in motion." The Argentine was smiling a broad, reminiscent smile. "Ii liked what we did, Joe. I really liked it, and over the next couple of months I managed to do it--and nearly everything else imaginable--with everyone in our class. Almost everyone. I missed Lucas Gusher, but he was still a child then. It wouldn't have been right. Besides, he disappeared right after that football game.

"Anyway, the last one I got to was Reginald Mooney. Do you remember him, Joe? He was obsessed with the occult, especially werewolves. I actually had some difficulty getting him interested in what I had to offer.

"I finally agreed to go along with him to a rite he'd found out about. We drove to a place just over the state line in Georgia where a famous summoner was supposed to live. There I found that Reggie hadn't actually been invited. We were just gatecrashers.

"We were caught and brought before the Grand Mage, a very nice man named David Portugal. Mr. Portugal told us that it was alright if we wanted to stay, but based on what he'd foreseen, he didn't recommend it.

"I still don't know what happened, exactly, that night. All I know is that after what seemed like hours of chanting and reading of runes and burning of incense, something not of this world manifested, and, for some reason, picked me out of that crowd f mystics.

"I'll spare you the details; I doubt if I could describe it to you anyway. It was the single most satisfying event of my life. When it was over, all of those mad hormonal urges that had sent me on my war of conquest through the senior class were fulfilled. I was in control of myself again. Of course, I was also a werewolf.

"I didn't realize it at first, but Reggie did. He was like an animal himself. If I hadn't given in out of sheer habit, he might well have tried to force me. As it was, I tolerated him.

"Very soon after, I met my destiny in the form of Hong Wang Spankweiler. Oh, he wasn't Hong Wang then; that came a couple of years later. Back then he was just a very rich old man--well, old enough to be my father--who was lonely because his wife had just left him. He was also my soulmate, and within a month we had disappeared together.

"After that, you know what happened. I pulled some strings, killed some people, got the house, and started my 'sorority'. At first it was a bit difficult finding girls, but that all changed when you started working for the campus police...and for me. And rest assure, Joe, I do appreciate all you've done for me...whether you wanted to or not.

"No, don't lie, Joe. You do it because you're afraid of me. Everyone's afraid of me. Even my girls. Even my husband, Joe, and I'm tired of it. I want to stop being the Argentine, and I know how to do it.

"This book. So You Want to Be Cured of Mystically-Induced Lycanthropy, by David Portugal. It tells me what I need to know. I need the blood of a virgin, Joe, the virgin that got away from me all those years ago. Bring me Lucas Gusher, Joe. Believe it or not, he was here, today, at my front door, with Sally Bench. Bring him to me, and we'll all be free."

1400

Lucas and Sally finally left Perky's, insanely frustrated and wishing they knew Gaelic so they could cuss like Angus MacAngus. It had looked very therapeutic.

Unsure of what to do, they went back to Sally's house where, for the first time in seventeen years, Lucas tried to call his mother. The disembodied female voice on the other end told him that the number was no longer in service.

1430

After a fairly long and unfruitful walk to collect his thoughts, Godzilla Joe made his way home. He entered through the back door and climbed the stairs to his loft.

Mere seconds later, suddenly not tired but in desperate need of fresh air, he came back down, stepped over the couch and the remains of his front door, and sat heavily on the front porch. After a brief moment of despair, he noticed that Bubbles and Winky were sitting out there, too.

"'Sup, Joe," Bubbles said noncommitally.

"Could either of you," Godzilla Joe began, pressing his hands as hard as he could against his temples in a vain attempt to crush his own head and leave this vale of tears, "satisfactorily explain why your drummer is in my bed with a tiny emaciated dago acting out the dirty parts from the Necronomicon?"

"Well, the tiny emaciated dago's il Monstro. He's sort of Sweetie-pie's replacement," Winky said, taking a long pull from a bottle of Jim Beam.

"I see. Given the situation, you're welcome to some of my whiskey, but you're damned well going to share. Give me the bottle, Winky."

Winky did so, and Godzilla Joe drained it with a speed and force usually associated with industrial pumps. "Damn," offered Bubbles.

"Damn," said Godzilla Joe, "is damned right. Do I want to know what happened to Sweetie-pie?" Two large heads moved slowly from side to side. "I didn't think so. May I ask the name of the entity who made this little switch?"

Neither Winky nor Bubbles seemed willing to answer. "Who was it? Nyarlathotep again? You screw up another sacrifice? What? Yog-Sothoth? Shub-Niggurath? Who?"

Bubbles, staring at the boards of the porch, mumbled, "Sucmeoth."

Something snapped inside Godzilla Joe. Much like St. Nicholas, he spoke not a word but went straight to his work. He smashed the bottle against the porch and, with a shrill cry of desperate fury (or furious desperation), mercilessly slashed the huge singer's throat.

As the pink mist began to swirl around them and Bubbles' gurgles faded, he finally seemed to realize what he was doing. "Damn again," said Godzilla Joe.

1435

Sucmeoth appeared much more quickly this time, and seemed to be in a very big hurry. "YES," it said, "THIS ONE’S NICE, TOO. SORRY I CAN’T STAY, BUT YOU KNOW HOW IT IS…" Its voice faded, taking the mist and Bubbles with it. As the mist disappeared, it revealed a trim figure in a British Airways flight attendant's uniform, surrounded by huge boxes.

"Hello," he said in a precise, lilting English accent. "You may call me Cannibal." The three of them stood there, Winky and Godzilla Joe staring balefully and Cannibal smiling and checking his boxes, until they were interrupted by shrill screams from inside the house. Through the remains of the front door flew il Monstro, who was wearing Godzilla Joe's robe, and Tank, unfortunately was not. They grabbed Cannibal, and the squealing mass of gaiety disappeared back into the house.

1700

"So," Sally asked, "are we going to Perky's party?"

"I thought we agreed that wasn't a good idea."

"You agreed." "Do you want to go?"

"Well, not really, but he did ask..."

"He also pointed a gun at my head. As I recall, he asked you to marry him again, too. Maybe you should think it over carefully before you accept any invitations from Perky Saizal."

"You're just upset."

"That's a good point. I am upset. I'm very upset. In seventeen years nothing remotely threatening has happened to me. Suddenly, since yesterday, you show up, Reggie gets killed outside my apartment and the friendly neighborhood hooker is probably the one who killed him and your uncle, I'm practically a witness to a police officer getting torn to shreds by some psycho sorority chick, and I find out there's a ten-thousand-dollar bounty on my head since high school, which the guy who placed the bounty, your ex-husband, tries to collect. I'd say I have every right to be upset."

"So my showing up is threatening?"

"What?"

"You said that nothing remotely threatening's happened to you, then you go down this list of threatening things, and I'm at the top of it."

"Sally, I didn't mean-"

"Am I threatening?"

"Well, maybe at first, because I didn't know what to do."

"And now?"

"Not now."

"So you know what to do."

"Not really. That's not as important now, though."

Pause. "And who's Reggie?"

"Reggie Mooney. From high school."

"He's dead?"

It dawned on Lucas that the author was not doing a very good job of keeping the characters informed. He took matters into his own hands and brought her up to date.

1720

Lewis was dozing behind the Swingers' huge stage when someone shook him awake. Opening his eyes a crack, he was somewhat-though not entirely--surprised to see Angus kneeling over him, fully bedecked in MacAngus tartan, his face blue with woad.

"Y'hear that, lad?" whispered Angus, his hand going to the hilt of the claymore strapped to his back. Lewis did hear something, a low thrumming from somewhere west, and realized that he had been hearing it in his sleep for some time.

"Aye. What is it, Angus?"

"According to our idiot patron, it's coming from the house of someone named 'Godzilla Joe'." Angus' sneer told exactly what he thought of someone daft enough to have a name like that. "He also tells me Godzilla Joe is the manager of a band called Pig Blood, the verra band that we've swarn to kill.”

Lewis recalled that it had been Angus who made that vow, and not him, but decided against mentioning it. Standing, Angus turned and spoke loftily toward the west. "Get up and get dressed, Lewis. We go forth to slay."

1730

Winky sat on Godzilla Joe's couch and listened forlornly to the sound of his bass. He was forlorn mostly because he wasn't playing it. Less than two bars into their Godzilla Joe-mandated rehearsal, Cannibal had taped, looped, and remixed his first three notes into an incredibly intricate dance track.

Winky, who had no appreciation for such things, had nothing to do but watch and mourn. Tank and il Monstro were bumping and grinding in front of Cannibal's monolithic stack of equipment. Pig Blood, he thought, was truly no more.

"Hey, Godzilla Joe" yelled Tank, as he wrapped his arms around il Monstro's twenty-inch hips. "We're changing the name of the group. From now on we're Phallusphere."

Slowly, Godzilla Joe's head rose from behind his kitchen counter. His face wore an expression of resigned disinterest. "Fine," he said dully. "Do what you want. We're all gonna be werewolf chow soon anyway."

With a sigh, Winky got up and walked over to where Godzilla Joe had returned to the fetal position. He knelt and asked, "What's going on? That's the third time you've mentioned werewolves in the last few minutes."

Godzilla Joe looked up at his bassist. "Winky, do you think I'm a good manager?"

"Honestly? I think you suck balls. I've been trying to fire you for months now so we could get somebody decent."

Godzilla Joe's smile was wan. "Like Ferris?"

"Well, maybe. Can't see much point now, though."

"No, I guess not." Godzilla Joe rolled to a siting position and was silent for a moment. "You know why I call myself Godzilla Joe, Winky?" Winky shook his head. "When I was in high school, there was this kid name Milton Kujawa. I used to scare the hell out of him every day. I didn't have any real reason; it's not like I hated him or anything. I just have this thing for scaring Japanese people. I'm banned for life from Disneyland because of that. Anyway, it got to the point that when he saw me coming he'd run away screaming like those people in the Godzilla movies. So I started calling myself Godzilla Joe. I never stopped scaring people, either. That's why I finally had to quit the campus police."

Winky didn't respond. "Anyway," continued Godzilla Joe, "I'm going to do one good thing as manager of Pig Blood."

"Phallusphere!" shrieked Tank form the living room.

"Whatever. Anyway, here you go: you're fired."

"What?" Winky had no idea what was going on.

"You're fired Get out of here. Trust me; it's the best thing."

Winky looked confused, but he shrugged and stood.

"Oh, and don't go out the front door. I'd stay off the road, too. Go about a half-mile that way," he pointed out through the back door, "through the woods, and you'll come to Perky Saizal's place. Tell him you're a friend of mine and you'll be okay. You can come get the truck later. Now get the hell out of here.”

Winky left, and, a few seconds later, so did Godzilla Joe. The three members of Phallusphere were lost in a techno-induced orgiastic frenzy and barely noticed.

1745

"So anyway, that's all I know," Lucas finished.

Sally was sipping tea as the two of them rocked slowly on her porch swing. "That's not a lot," she said.

"I know. I don't know what to do about it, though."

"I think we should go back to the Chi Naugha house."

Lucas turned to look directly down at her. "Absolutely not," he said. "It's too dangerous."

"Lucas," she said, her voice growing dark and angry, "you'd better never presume to tell me what I will and won't do again. I'm a grown woman, and I've done very well so far without you telling me what to do. Do you understand me?"

"Sure," he replied, rising from the swing. "But you're still not going back there."

"You arrogant--" She broke off her impending tirade to watch a small black sedan pull into her driveway.

"Who's that?" asked Lucas.

"It's Godzilla Joe."

1747

Winky hadn't gone far when he saw what appeared to be two large Scottish warriors sneaking very loudly through the woods fifty feet in front of him. He'd been drinking fairly regularly since he was fifteen--almost eight years--and would've thought himself far past the point where a few swallows of Beam would make him see Scotsmen. Therefore, he reasoned tat they were real, and watched them creep toward him.

Eventually, they crept close enough that creeping had to be abandoned as pointless. The two men stood before Winky and glared. He glared back, until his eyes started hurting and he had to blink.

"Who are ye?" the taller Scot asked in a gruff voice. He looked Winky over seeming to find little to his liking. "Are ye part of that band," he spat vehemently, "Pig Blood?"

Winky was a fairly intelligent young man, and wouldn't have said "yes" even if he hadn't just been kicked out. "No, sorry."

The other Scotsman spoke up. "D'ye know where we might find 'em, then?" His voice was polite, but the axe he carried over his right shoulder gleamed menacingly in the early sunset. Obviously, Winky thought, these two meant no good to his erstwhile band.

"Sure," said a suddenly grinning Winky. "Bastards are about a hundred yards that way. What do you want 'em for, anyway?"

"Never ye mind, lad," said the first Scot, rubbing the hilt of his ancient claymore. He looked to his companion and they began walking again, past Winky.

"'Cause if you're out to kill 'em," the giant bassist added, " I'd love to help."

"Would ye now?" The men stopped, and the taller one spoke without turning around. "What's your name, lad?"

"Winky."

"Winky, I'm Angus, and this is Lewis. Do ye need a weapon?"

1748

Godzilla Joe got out of his car slowly. He walked up the driveway even more slowly, then stood there for a moment taking in the spectacle of Lucas and Sally standing side by side.

"That you, Lucas?"

"Yep. Hi, Joe."

"Hey. Hey, Sally."

"Hi, Joe."

They were silent for a moment as Godzilla Joe collected himself for a truly heroic sigh. He finally sighed heroically, then said, "The Argentine wants y'all to come to her anniversary party tonight, and she won't take no for an answer."

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening us, Joe?"

"No," Godzilla Joe answered. "She is. I couldn't really give a damn if you were there or not.

Nothing personal, but I'm dead either way."

"Okay," said Sally, before Lucas could stop her. "We'll be there."

"Great. Seven o'clock, Chi Naugha house. Might as well dress casual, I guess." He walked back to his car, got in, and drove away, feeling as if no weight at all had been lifted from his shoulders.

1750

Winky already had a weapon, as he demonstrated by bludgeoning several medium-size trees into splinters with his cast-iron bass. The three of them arrived at Godzilla Joe's house just as the werewolves did.

Four werehookers in pastel Chi Naugha sweatshirts piled out of a silver Land Cruiser and immediately mistook Angus, Lewis, and Winky for the band. When the three men who were not, in fact, the band made to defend themselves from being hauled off bodily by four pretty young sorority sisters, the pretty young sorority sisters became slavering bestial young sorority sisters and attacked.

(It's a common misconception that werewolves can only be killed by silver weapons. This is not entirely true. They can only be hurt by silver; cuts made with an ordinary sword will simply close up, and limbs chopped off with an ordinary axe will eventually grow back. If the wound is obviously fatal, though--i.e., decapitation, caving-in of the skull with a 480lb. bass guitar--it really doesn't matter what kind of metal made the wound. Some things there's just no coming back from.)

Needless to say, since Angus, Lewis, and Winky are the good guys here, they won.

"Jay-sus, man. D'ye get this sort o' thing often?" Angus wheezed as they surveyed the carnage they had wrought.

"Well," Winky gasped, "I'd heard rumors about these Chi Naugha chicks, but I've never seen anything like this before."

"Hmm. Maybe we should go visit these Chi Naughas."

Lewis spoke up. "Nae, Angus. We've got a show to do. We've already been paid. The Edinburgh Tabernacle Swingers never cancel a show once we've been paid."

Angus looked at his cousin as if he'd jut suggested a quiet afternoon of antelope-raping. "We're not bloody canceling, Lewis. I'm going to this Chi Naugha house. You're going back to the idiot's estate and do the final prep for the show. If I'm not there in an hour or so, you and the boys come find us. Ye got that?" Lewis nodded, though he clearly didn't like it. "Good. Come on then, Winky. Let's go see what we can see."

1800

Godzilla Joe returned to his house to find things quite a bit worse than when he'd left. He paused for a moment to reflect on how seldom a man has the opportunity to stand in his driveway staring at four dead werewolf whore sorority sisters while listening to three horrendously gay supernatural entities please each other to the sounds of daringly original dance music inside his house.

For a moment, he stood in silent reverie, taking in very detail of a scene that somehow didn't seem all that surreal to him. Then he went inside and dragged the still-copulating Phallusphere to his car.

1830

Lucas was sitting in Sally's living room, waiting for her to finish getting ready. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that he didn't want to go back to the Chi Naugha house. Having just re-entered the world, he was in no great desire to leave it.

Sally, on the other hand, was determined to go. She felt she owed it to her Uncle Wyandotte, and there was no way Lucas was going to let her go back there alone.

He stood and walked out onto the front porch. The air was still humid, but it was getting chilly. Clouds were moving in. He knew this street. He'd grown up less than a mile away. When he'd left after that last game, he'd thought he'd never return. Now, here he was, with--

"Ready."

Sally. He barely noticed what she was wearing, only that she was as beautiful as someone who is ugly in some fundamental, unidentifiable way could be.

"Yes," he said. It was time, he decided, to stop feeling sorry for himself and be the hero.

Or, of course, die trying.

1835

"Joe," said the Argentine, gripping the arm of her pumpkin-colored couch with one hand and the neck of her now-beet-colored husband with the other. "Joe, I'm very disappointed in you. I told you to be here with the band at six." She looked around angrily, her gaze finally alighting on the three quivering Phallusphereans.

Godzilla Joe, having come to terms with his own imminent mortality and honestly believing nothing could surprise him anymore, felt incredibly calm. "Pig Blood's dead, Arantxa. This is your band." He gestured vaguely toward Tank, il Monstro and Cannibal. "Send a couple of your girls over to get their equipment from my house. You might want to have 'em pick up the corpses, too. And I want my money. Now."

The Argentine sat for a moment in shock, her fanged jaw hanging open. She released her grip on Hong Wang, who began giggling maniacally.

"Nobody," she finally growled, "talks to me like that."

"Oh, shut up. You're probably gonna kill me anyway, so what have I got to lose? Besides, if your plan works out, you won't be the almighty Queen of the Werewolf Whores anymore, will you? You won't be able to just growl and have everybody jump when you say so, so you'd better get used to it." He turned and walked toward the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to kick one of your whores out of her room so I can take a nap. I'm freakin' tired."

"Is that him?" a woman's voice asked form behind the couch a moment later, as the screams of a displaced werehooker came down the stairwell.

"Yes, Emily," answered the Argentine, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "That's your new husband." She looked at the apoplectic Hong Wang. "Shut up, dearest."

1840

"That's it, then?"

"Yep."

Angus and Winky were sitting in the commandeered Land Cruiser, looking at the Chi Naugha house two blocks down. "We gonna rush it?" asked Winky.

Angus squinted at the house and thought for a moment. "Nae, lad. I want to get closer." They got out of the vehicle and crossed the street, which seemed oddly deserted to Winky.

Just as they reached the side of the house, the front door opened and two perky Chi Naughas came bouncing out. The men ducked behind a large azalea bush as the girls climbed into a yellow Tracker and left.

After the buzzing of the tiny engine had faded, Winky asked, "You hear something?" There was an ululating, piercing whine coming from the window above them.

"Aye, I do. Sounds almost like..." Angus stood and looked in through the window. "Dear God, Winky, look at this. Do ye know who that is?" he asked as the huge bassist stood. There was a small man inside, coloring his knuckles with a blue crayon and singing to himself. Winky shook his head, and Angus said, "That's Spanky Saizal."

"No way, man. Spanky Saizal disappeared when I was a little kid. He's been dead forever."

"Lad, I tell ye that's him. He toured with the Swingers once in the seventies. The only time we ever got run off the stage was in Trenton, New Jersey. He ran out and started squawking "Sympathy for the Devil". He claimed it was an old African folk son his mother had taught him. I fired him after that."

They quickly ducked down again when the room's door opened. Peeking over the sill, they saw a vicious-looking Asian girl in a purple merrywidow throw something at Saizal. "The Argentine said get dressed," she spat. "Now." Then she stomped out, slamming the door behind her.

"I think I'm in love," murmured Winky.

"Ach, lad, she's just another one o' those furry beasties. Yon Spanky's their prisoner. Come on, lad," Angus said, "we're gettin' him out o' there."

"She didn't look furry," Winky said as they opened the window.

1842

"You can't leave! I paid you!"

Lewis looked Perky Saizal directly in the eye and said, "I told ye, we'll be back for the show. The Edinburgh Tabernacle Swingers don't cancel."

"But you're leaving!"

"We just have to go pick up Mr. MacAngus."

"But why are you dressed like that?" Perky pointed to the three dozen kilted, woaded, and armed warriors milling about in his backyard.

"Look, Mr. Saizal, if you must know, we're going to the Chi Naugha house, and there might be some tr-"

"Chi Naughas! Hot damn, son. Y'all wait about five minutes. I'm comin' with y'all." Perky ran back into the house with what Lewis could only assume was a "hoot 'n' holler".

"C'mon, lads," he said, turning to face the band. Let's get out o' here before that tosser can catch up."

1845

Lucas and Sally were walking up the front steps of the Chi Naugha house when they noticed the two men crawling into the window.

"Y'see that?" Lucas asked.

"Yes."

"That was that Angus MacAngus guy again, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Who was that with him?"

"I don't know."

"Think we should say something about it?"

"No."

"Okay." Lucas knocked, and again the door was opened almost immediately. This time he recognized the girl.

"Well, hello Lucas," a nude Milensa crooned. "You're a little early. Come on in."

"Hi," said Sally. "I'm Sally--" She stopped when she realized that the girl had already turned her back. She looked up at Lucas.

He shrugged. "I guess we should go in."

"How exactly does that tramp know you, Lucas?" Sally asked from between clenched teeth.

"Uhh, well, that's the hooker who works outside my building. Her name's Milensa."

"I see. And how well do you know this whore?"

He finally saw what she was getting at. "Aw, Sally, come on. We've spoken a few times. That's all."

"Well, I guess that's more than most people do with a woman like that. Talk, I mean."

"Sally, she's not even my type."

She looked up at him and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I bet it just disgusts you to se a beautiful naked girl who you know would do anything you paid her to. Fine"

He wisely said nothing as they entered the throne room of the Queen of the Werewolf Whores.

1846

"Mr. Saizal," Angus said, "You've got to come with us."

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong number. My name is Island of the Sea Turtles." Hong Wang had finished coloring his knuckles and was struggling with what appeared to be a black Naughahyde robe.

"What did he say?" the Scot asked Winky.

"He said his name's 'Island of the Sea Turtles'."

"Come on, Spanky. It's me, Angus. Remember?"

"He's crazy, Angus. Let's just leave him."

"No, Winky. Watch the door. I'm going to get through to him. Spanky, can you hear me? It's Angus." No response. "Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste..." Hong Wang looked at Angus carefully, then asked, "Angus MacAngus?"

"That's right, lad! Come on, then!"

"Quiet," Winky whispered. "There's somebody coming."

Somebody was indeed coming, because at that moment the door slammed open, hitting Winky and startling Angus and Hong Wang. "Everybody," the small man yelled, "must get stoned!"

The Asian werehooker looked at the three of them. "Who the hell are you two?" she demanded, growing larger and baring her fangs.

"We're with the band," Winky answered just before he punched her in the face. As she staggered backward, Angus leapt upon her, driving his claymore through her heart.

"Man, that sucks. She was freakin' hot."

Angus wiped the blood from his sword and looked up at Winky. "Lad," he said, "I canna make ye do this, but I'm going kill as many of these abominations as I can, and I'd like ye to help me. Will ye fight beside me?"

Winky looked down at the dead werewolf whore, then back at Angus. "I guess I will."

From another room came the sounds of a struggle and a long, piercing scream.

1847

It was mentioned earlier that a great deal can happen in two minutes. As further proof of this truth, it should be noted that less than two minutes after walking through the Chi Naughas' front door, Lucas was flat on his back, strapped down to what felt like a billiard table covered in Naughahyde. He had very little idea how this had happened.

"Good evening, Lucas. I'm the Argentine."

Lucas turned his head until he could see the speaker. "Evita?" he asked, surprised.

"No, I'm Arantxa. You remember me." She walked over to the table and stood looking down at him. "How have you been?"

"Honestly? I've been better." He flexed his arms, testing the strength of the straps around his wrists.

"Don't bother," the Argentine said. "That's the finest Sumatran Naughahyde. You won't break it."

"Where's Sally?"

"In the other room. I didn't think she'd want to see this." She pulled a large, elaborately-etched ceremonial knife from within her Naughahyde robe. "It's nothing personal, Lucas. It's just what I have to do. Seventeen years of this is enough."

From the other room came the sounds of a struggle and a long, piercing scream.

1849

"Are ye alright, ma'am?" Angus asked Sally. Two werewolf whores lay dead on the floor.

"Yeah, fine." Sally was shaking and apparently not entirely fine.

"Somebody's coming again," said Winky, hoisting his bass. "Get her out of here."

Angus looked at Winky, worried. "But lad--"

"Freakin' go!" He swung the massive instrument in a wide, low arc, shearing through door and wall alike to connect solidly with the werehooker on the other side.

"C'mon, lass," Angus said, opening the window. "Out we go."

From upstairs came the sounds of a struggle and a long, piercing scream.

1850

Godzilla Joe blinked convulsively and demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Emily, Hong Wang's agent." The woman was apparently in her late thirties, with a round, doughy face and long frizzy brown hair. She was in the process of pulling his pants off of him.

He thought about this for a minute as his head cleared. "That," he answered finally, "does not satisfactorily explain why you're in the process of pulling my pants off of me."

She smiled and continued to struggle for control of the pants. "I thought we should get to know each other before we get married."

"What!"

"Arantxa said we're getting married. Didn't she tell you?"

"Hell, no, she didn't tell me."

Emily looked confused. "I wonder why not?"

"Probably because we're not getting married, you goofy broad." With a quick jerk, he regained dominion over his pants and tried to roll out of the bed.

Emily, however, wouldn't let him. "Listen to me," she said, moving up to sit on his chest. "I'm thirty-nine years old and my last name is 'Foreskin'. I am getting married, and Arantxa is giving you to me. You either marry me or die." Then she screamed as Godzilla Joe bucked his hips and sent both of them flying off of the bed.

"Now," he panted, "you listen to me." He had landed on top of her, and was trying his best to make her hold still. "I was already ready to die. I'm pretty used to the idea. So I'll be damned if I marry some crazy chick just because--"

He never finished, only stiffened and rolled off of her. Emily was surprised to see a rusty carving knife protruding form his back, but was even more surprised to see the five-and-a-half-foot-tall, black-robed, slightly moldy cheese who had snuck in behind him. "Are you okay?" asked the cheese.

"You...you killed him."

"Yeah, well, I heard you screaming, and then I came in and saw him attacking you. Besides, I'm Death."

Emily stared into the hole where Death's right eye should have been and began cursing savagely. Death, somewhat taken aback, tried to comfort her.

From downstairs came no sounds of a struggle, only a long, piercing scream.

1852

"Oh, stop screaming. You sound like a little girl." Hong Wang had no idea what the creature was that had suddenly appeared before him, but he figured he might as well listen to it.

"That's better. Now, listen up. I'm Joe Spooky. I'm a wombat god, so you can trust me. Things are getting pretty dangerous around here, so if you want to live, come with me."

After what seemed like careful consideration, but was really just gas, Hong Wang shrugged. The two of them disappeared to the sound of Michael Jackson slapping a nun.

From the kitchen came the sounds of a struggle and a long, piercing scream.

1853

Once he'd stopped screaming, Tank gasped, "Yeah, that's the spot. Do it to me again." Cannibal and il Monstro did, but you don't want to hear about that.

1854

There was a huge crash as the front door collapsed and a flood of Gaelic warriors poured in. Already enraged by the chaos exploding throughout her house, the Argentine prepared to meet them head-on.

Though Lewis had warned them about what they might find, it's fair to say that the Edinburgh Tabernacle Swingers were pretty surprised to turn the corner into the Chi Naughas' living room and find themselves face-to-face with an eight-foot-tall silver-furred werewolf roaring at them in broken Spanish.

The first man through the door, and Irish saxophonist named Feargal, certainly had a surprised expression as the Argentine's immense paw propelled his head across the room.

She clearly had the advantage; the Swingers could only come at her one at a time through the narrow doorway, and the Argentine, unlike most of her girls, was an experienced warrior. Lewis, directing his men from the rear, set three of them to knocking out the wall between the foyer and the living room.

From the kitchen the rest of the Swingers ran in, led by Angus. They were met by a wave of werehookers rushing down the stairs. A second group of Chi Naughas came pouring in from the north wing, where Winky had been. As they all met in the center of the huge, Naughahyde-bedecked room, Lewis' men finished knocking through the wall--which, unfortunately, was bearing a great deal of weight--and the center of house collapsed inward.

1900

When the dust finally cleared, the house was a ruin. There were moans and growling whines from the injured scattered among the rubble. Lucas, still strapped to the table in the middle of what had been the living room, was, incredibly, unharmed.

"Lucas!" screamed Sally, running joyously through the wreckage. The only thing louder than her ecstatic cry was the unmistakable sound of a man running in full plate armor. He seemed to be racing her to Lucas.

Sally got there first, crying and embracing him as best she could. "Get the knife," he told her, but as she bent to do so the armor-clad man finally made his way to the table. He was bearing a shield with an azure field and a rubber chicken rampant. Lucas and Sally knew who he was before he lifted his visor.

"Hoo-wee!" Perky Saizal yelled. "It's hotter'n three rats screwin' in a wool sock in here!" He turned somewhat stiffly to face Sally. "Hey, Sally, I hate to break y'all up, but I'm gonna kill your boyfriend before somebody else does." He drew a cheap-looking broadsword, a vacant, cockeyed grin on his face. Then, as he raised the sword for the killing blow, a huge silver paw shot out from under a pile a pile of wood and Naughahyde and twisted his head completely off.

"Como mantequilla sobre un mano pelon," the Argentine grunted, lifting an enormous Naughahyde-covered bedframe off of her back. "Lucas is mine." Sally watched in horror and gripped the knife as the monstrous werewolf rose before her.

"Give me the knife, Sally. You have no idea what is happening. I have to be free. Give me the knife so I can end this." She held out her paw.

"No. You're going to kill Lucas."

"I have to, Sally." They could hear rubble shifting as survivors crawled out.

"You'll have to kill me too, then."

"Fi--" There was a thick, wet crunch as Winky's bass connected solidly with the back of the Argentine's head. She fell heavily, and Winky, along with several Swingers who had crawled from the wreckage, fell to savaging her unconscious body. Within a minute, there was little left of her besides a silver-furred greasy spot.

More of Angus' men, as well as Emily Foreskin, were clambering out now, and those already free moved to help them. Sally began sawing at the straps that held Lucas. "What is this stuff?"

"The finest Sumatran Naughahyde," Lucas answered.

"Well, it's pretty tough." She managed to cut through the strap on his right wrist.

"Here, let me." He took the knife from her, then dropped it and pulled her to him. He kissed her, long and deep. Then he looked into her eyes and asked, "Are you alright?"

"I am now," she replied, as the moon rose.

LATER

At eight, the guests started arriving for the party. At one minute past eight, the guests started leaving, many taking large swatches of various rare Naughahydes with them.

Shortly after that, werehookers began crawling from the ruin. There were only about twenty-five left. A few, including Milensa, opted to follow Fleetwood Mac's advice and go their own way. The rest milled around aimlessly for a bit, avoiding the Swingers still dragging their bandmates out, then climbed into their cute little sports coupes and SUVs and headed southwest, heeding a call only they could hear.

Emily Foreskin went to work the next day and, as always, spent several hours perusing the personal ads.

Three days later, Winky began his first tour with Angus MacAngus and the Edinburgh Tabernacle Swingers. His influence on the group's next album, MacTools, was credited with their being nominated for a Best Album Grammy. They were narrowly defeated by Phallusphere's Squealing Mass of Gaiety.

A week after the massacre, Sally was surprised with the news that Perky had never changed his will after their divorce, and that he had left her his entire estate. She and Lucas took over the company, and were married several months later. They lived out the rest of their lives without ever being bothered by this author again.

The sea monster was given an honorable burial.