and
present:
Of Possible Alternatives
(a.k.a. The God of Copyright Infringement Takes a Holiday)
-------- Part Four --------
by Jason Bertovich
©2013 by Jason Bertovich and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
Perspectives created by Jason Bertovich
Kenny's Laboratory created by Matthew Atanian
Of Possible Alternatives
(a.k.a. The God of Copyright Infringement Takes a Holiday)
-------- Part Four --------
by Jason Bertovich
©2013 by Jason Bertovich and Matthew Atanian
Boy Scouts ½ created by Matthew Atanian
Perspectives created by Jason Bertovich
Kenny's Laboratory created by Matthew Atanian
Matt Atanian found himself kissing the girl of his dreams, Ms. Sarah Porter. As their lips gently mushed against each other, Matt could only reflect upon the sheer hell of all he had to endure to finally win her heart. Finally, after years if trials, tribulations, lies, and curses, Matt and Sarah had finally come together. It was like he just won the free game of pinball. The lights were flashing and the bells were dinging inside his excited mind.
Matt found himself intoxicated by the soft lips of Sarah, and while he was looking forward to the potential future, he was hoping that this moment would never, ever end.
Which is why he was quite surprised when he felt a fist connect with his jaw and that he had now found himself flying rapidly away from Sarah, lips still puckered, in a rapid motion. He was further surprised to find himself flying through at least three walls and a four door sedan, finally coming to a stop half embedded in the side of a now damaged dumpster.
“Ouch,” was all Matt could dumbly say.
“Matt!” Came Sarah’s cry as she ran through the holes he created. She came up to him and he staggered to his feet.
“If I fronk my wombat, would you monkey the dishwasher, Samsonite?” Matt mumbled, still trying to clear his head of the blow induced fog he was in.
From inside the building, Matt and Sarah heard the slow deliberate crunching footsteps coming toward them. A moment later, a crew-cutted behemoth of a man emerged, wearing a high school letterman’s jacket with the number ‘95’ emblazoned on the chest. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck and grinned. “Mr. Atanian, at last we meet.”
Sarah could only groan and palmed her face in abject embarrassment. “Oh god…”
Matt eyed the man and felt it very important to make sense of this situation. “I’m sorry, but you are…?”
“I am the seventh and most recent addition to the most exclusive of organizations, The League of Sarah’s Evil Ex-Boyfriends, Rodney Kuntz. You will never again touch those lips as I will make short work of you,” Rodney said and he reeled back his clenched fist to punch Matt again.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Matt said confused. “Are we fighting over Sarah?”
Rodney paused and cocked his head like a confused dog. “Didn’t you get my E-mail?”
Matt thought back to this morning as he checked his inbox. He did remember seeing a mail titled ‘Soon you will be defeated…’ but since he didn’t recognize the return email address, he assumed it was spam and deleted it. “Um… I skimmed it.”
Hughes happened to be randomly walking by, and had taken a position leaning casually against a wall. Upon hearing what Matt had said, he responded by tutted and shook his head.
Meanwhile, Matt found himself subject to another assault by Rodney, and thus flying backward again, soon to be embedded even deeper into dumpster he had been previously knocked into. A moment later Sarah was lightly slapping him on the face.
“Hi!” Matt said, punch drunk.
“Yeah, you might want to think about standing up soon. He’s walking over here to finish you off,” Sarah said matter-of-factly.
“Can you just fill me in on a few details, first?” Matt asked, rapidly becoming more aware of his surroundings.
“Such as?” Sarah prodded.
“Um…. Everything.”
Sarah sighed. “If we’re going to date, you may have to defeat my seven evil ex-boyfriends…”
“I have to fight seven guys?” Matt asked stupefied at the prospect of taking on any more men like the one currently punching him through walls.
“You have to defeat them, yes,” Sarah confirmed.
Matt absorbed this for a moment and then smiled weirdly. “So, that means we’re dating now?”
Sarah grinned sheepishly and pulled him up to his feet. “Go get’em, Tiger.”
Matt dusted himself off and adjusted his trenchcoat. He stopped for a moment to pick up his trademark fedora, which had flown off after the second punch, and calmly placed it upon his head. He then looked to Rodney who was standing there grinning stupidly and flexing his arms through his jacket.
Matt looked him over and realized that this man had just punched him through a wall three times over and almost through a steel dumpster twice. This was not a winning situation. He decided to forgo the honorable duel mentality and decided if this douche was going to suckerpunch him, he’d return the favor.
Matt grabbed a nearby brick that had been knocked free of the wall he exited through. He whirled around and whipped it as hard as he could toward Rodney’s head, in hopes of scoring a direct hit so he could grab Sarah and get away long enough to get something to help him fight Rodney better, like say, the National Guard.
Matt was horrified to watch as Rodney literally punched the brick out of midair, reducing it to sparkling dust. He was further stunned to watch as when the brick shattered, a comical looking cartoon mushroom flew out of the brick’s remains and straight into Rodney’s mouth.
A moment later, Rodney grew easily by a foot and his arms had doubled in size, shredding his jacket in the process. He then laughed evilly and cracked his knuckles again. He then grabbed a nearby trashcan and crushed it flat with his meaty palms.
“Matt!” Sarah shouted and proceeded to throw a large cardboard box at Matt. Matt instinctively punched it away. The second his fist connected with the cardboard, the box changed colors and an aluminum can popped out as if it had been loaded into the box on a large novelty spring. The can landed
into Matt’s open palm. Matt studied it for a moment and saw that it was a can of legendary Kiwi-Mocha Fruit Juice.
“Stun him, Matt!” Sarah shouted.
Matt chucked the can at Rodney like a Nolan Ryan fastball, connecting beautifully with Rodney’s sloped Neanderthal-like forehead. Digitized stars swirled around Rodney’s melon and he began to flash and pulse with a bright red glow.
Sarah ran up to Matt and without saying a word, jumped up onto his shoulders and then using him as a perch, she leaped off of him, delivering an arching heel kick to her ex-boyfriend. Rodney began to pulse and flash faster.
Matt then ran up to the dazed man and did what his instincts told him to do: he head butted Rodney as hard as he humanly could.
COMBO FINISHER – HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE ATTACK!!! An ethereal voice cried out from the heavens and Rodney disintegrated into a digitized dust, leaving some scant pocket change behind.
Matt scooped it up and counted it. “Forty-two cents and three Canadian pennies. Aw, man, that's not even enough for the bus!” he whined.
“He always was a cheap bastard,” Sarah said.
Matt found himself intoxicated by the soft lips of Sarah, and while he was looking forward to the potential future, he was hoping that this moment would never, ever end.
Which is why he was quite surprised when he felt a fist connect with his jaw and that he had now found himself flying rapidly away from Sarah, lips still puckered, in a rapid motion. He was further surprised to find himself flying through at least three walls and a four door sedan, finally coming to a stop half embedded in the side of a now damaged dumpster.
“Ouch,” was all Matt could dumbly say.
“Matt!” Came Sarah’s cry as she ran through the holes he created. She came up to him and he staggered to his feet.
“If I fronk my wombat, would you monkey the dishwasher, Samsonite?” Matt mumbled, still trying to clear his head of the blow induced fog he was in.
From inside the building, Matt and Sarah heard the slow deliberate crunching footsteps coming toward them. A moment later, a crew-cutted behemoth of a man emerged, wearing a high school letterman’s jacket with the number ‘95’ emblazoned on the chest. He cracked his knuckles and then his neck and grinned. “Mr. Atanian, at last we meet.”
Sarah could only groan and palmed her face in abject embarrassment. “Oh god…”
Matt eyed the man and felt it very important to make sense of this situation. “I’m sorry, but you are…?”
“I am the seventh and most recent addition to the most exclusive of organizations, The League of Sarah’s Evil Ex-Boyfriends, Rodney Kuntz. You will never again touch those lips as I will make short work of you,” Rodney said and he reeled back his clenched fist to punch Matt again.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Matt said confused. “Are we fighting over Sarah?”
Rodney paused and cocked his head like a confused dog. “Didn’t you get my E-mail?”
Matt thought back to this morning as he checked his inbox. He did remember seeing a mail titled ‘Soon you will be defeated…’ but since he didn’t recognize the return email address, he assumed it was spam and deleted it. “Um… I skimmed it.”
Hughes happened to be randomly walking by, and had taken a position leaning casually against a wall. Upon hearing what Matt had said, he responded by tutted and shook his head.
Meanwhile, Matt found himself subject to another assault by Rodney, and thus flying backward again, soon to be embedded even deeper into dumpster he had been previously knocked into. A moment later Sarah was lightly slapping him on the face.
“Hi!” Matt said, punch drunk.
“Yeah, you might want to think about standing up soon. He’s walking over here to finish you off,” Sarah said matter-of-factly.
“Can you just fill me in on a few details, first?” Matt asked, rapidly becoming more aware of his surroundings.
“Such as?” Sarah prodded.
“Um…. Everything.”
Sarah sighed. “If we’re going to date, you may have to defeat my seven evil ex-boyfriends…”
“I have to fight seven guys?” Matt asked stupefied at the prospect of taking on any more men like the one currently punching him through walls.
“You have to defeat them, yes,” Sarah confirmed.
Matt absorbed this for a moment and then smiled weirdly. “So, that means we’re dating now?”
Sarah grinned sheepishly and pulled him up to his feet. “Go get’em, Tiger.”
Matt dusted himself off and adjusted his trenchcoat. He stopped for a moment to pick up his trademark fedora, which had flown off after the second punch, and calmly placed it upon his head. He then looked to Rodney who was standing there grinning stupidly and flexing his arms through his jacket.
Matt looked him over and realized that this man had just punched him through a wall three times over and almost through a steel dumpster twice. This was not a winning situation. He decided to forgo the honorable duel mentality and decided if this douche was going to suckerpunch him, he’d return the favor.
Matt grabbed a nearby brick that had been knocked free of the wall he exited through. He whirled around and whipped it as hard as he could toward Rodney’s head, in hopes of scoring a direct hit so he could grab Sarah and get away long enough to get something to help him fight Rodney better, like say, the National Guard.
Matt was horrified to watch as Rodney literally punched the brick out of midair, reducing it to sparkling dust. He was further stunned to watch as when the brick shattered, a comical looking cartoon mushroom flew out of the brick’s remains and straight into Rodney’s mouth.
A moment later, Rodney grew easily by a foot and his arms had doubled in size, shredding his jacket in the process. He then laughed evilly and cracked his knuckles again. He then grabbed a nearby trashcan and crushed it flat with his meaty palms.
“Matt!” Sarah shouted and proceeded to throw a large cardboard box at Matt. Matt instinctively punched it away. The second his fist connected with the cardboard, the box changed colors and an aluminum can popped out as if it had been loaded into the box on a large novelty spring. The can landed
into Matt’s open palm. Matt studied it for a moment and saw that it was a can of legendary Kiwi-Mocha Fruit Juice.
“Stun him, Matt!” Sarah shouted.
Matt chucked the can at Rodney like a Nolan Ryan fastball, connecting beautifully with Rodney’s sloped Neanderthal-like forehead. Digitized stars swirled around Rodney’s melon and he began to flash and pulse with a bright red glow.
Sarah ran up to Matt and without saying a word, jumped up onto his shoulders and then using him as a perch, she leaped off of him, delivering an arching heel kick to her ex-boyfriend. Rodney began to pulse and flash faster.
Matt then ran up to the dazed man and did what his instincts told him to do: he head butted Rodney as hard as he humanly could.
COMBO FINISHER – HEAD OVER HEELS IN LOVE ATTACK!!! An ethereal voice cried out from the heavens and Rodney disintegrated into a digitized dust, leaving some scant pocket change behind.
Matt scooped it up and counted it. “Forty-two cents and three Canadian pennies. Aw, man, that's not even enough for the bus!” he whined.
“He always was a cheap bastard,” Sarah said.
Becker sighed, “Oh, if only life were like that.”
“Incorporating the laws of videogame physics into a physical universe would most likely lead to some unpleasant side effects,” Kenny commented.
“Gimme a fr’instance,” Becker demanded.
“Well, say someone picks the wrong plant at a farm. One night you’re enjoying a nice salad, and the next moment, FWOOSH! Your tossing around fireballs and now you’ve caught the cat on fire,” Kenny answered.
“I don’t have a cat. And I don’t eat salad,” Becker countered.
“Okay, suddenly you get crushed by giant barrel throwing monkey,” Kenny deadpanned.
“Yeah, that would kinda suck,” Becker agreed. Becker then picked up three or four of the DVD cases off the floor and glancing through them. He sighed again.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Becker?” Kenny asked.
“Well, I’m just noticing a pattern…”
“Please, not the time traveling alien observation again, Mr. Becker,” Kenny groaningly interrupted.
“No, not that,” Becker replied. “It’s just…. Well, it seems that all these alternates seem to focus on specific people as most central beings in their existence. I mean, how many times have we seen Matt as the center the universe? Or you for that matter? Even Nicole and that Jason guy she was dating get some spotlight. Meanwhile guys like Me and the Bills and Mike and Swett are always sidekicks and supporting characters. I mean, what about a universe where I’M the most important being in existence? Is that too much to ask?”
Kenny absorbed this and then reached over the stack and started flipping through the cases. After a few moments, he smiled and tossed one to Becker. “Will this do?”
Becker grabbed the case and gave a skeptical look. He then looked at the case and grinned broadly. The cover read in bold rock star font BECKER’S MUSIC SHOP. Becker flipped in over and read the description, delighting in his wish. “'When a long lost relative sheds the mortal coil, she leaves her record and instrument shop to her only living relative, Jon Becker. Can he possibly run a business all by himself, whilst fending off the underhanded business practices of the rival music shop across the street? With his good buddy, the brainy Kenny in tow, it’ll be an ear splitting time for everyone!' Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
Kenny inserted the disc and wondered what kind of sidekick he would make…
“Incorporating the laws of videogame physics into a physical universe would most likely lead to some unpleasant side effects,” Kenny commented.
“Gimme a fr’instance,” Becker demanded.
“Well, say someone picks the wrong plant at a farm. One night you’re enjoying a nice salad, and the next moment, FWOOSH! Your tossing around fireballs and now you’ve caught the cat on fire,” Kenny answered.
“I don’t have a cat. And I don’t eat salad,” Becker countered.
“Okay, suddenly you get crushed by giant barrel throwing monkey,” Kenny deadpanned.
“Yeah, that would kinda suck,” Becker agreed. Becker then picked up three or four of the DVD cases off the floor and glancing through them. He sighed again.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Becker?” Kenny asked.
“Well, I’m just noticing a pattern…”
“Please, not the time traveling alien observation again, Mr. Becker,” Kenny groaningly interrupted.
“No, not that,” Becker replied. “It’s just…. Well, it seems that all these alternates seem to focus on specific people as most central beings in their existence. I mean, how many times have we seen Matt as the center the universe? Or you for that matter? Even Nicole and that Jason guy she was dating get some spotlight. Meanwhile guys like Me and the Bills and Mike and Swett are always sidekicks and supporting characters. I mean, what about a universe where I’M the most important being in existence? Is that too much to ask?”
Kenny absorbed this and then reached over the stack and started flipping through the cases. After a few moments, he smiled and tossed one to Becker. “Will this do?”
Becker grabbed the case and gave a skeptical look. He then looked at the case and grinned broadly. The cover read in bold rock star font BECKER’S MUSIC SHOP. Becker flipped in over and read the description, delighting in his wish. “'When a long lost relative sheds the mortal coil, she leaves her record and instrument shop to her only living relative, Jon Becker. Can he possibly run a business all by himself, whilst fending off the underhanded business practices of the rival music shop across the street? With his good buddy, the brainy Kenny in tow, it’ll be an ear splitting time for everyone!' Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
Kenny inserted the disc and wondered what kind of sidekick he would make…
The bell jingled a little as the front door to Becker’s record and music shop, LOUD THINGS INC., opened. Becker looked up from the shop’s front counter and from the stack of CD’s he was pricing to see who it was.
Bill Hughes, Aaron Abdowmassy, Mike Quadrozzi, and Billy Gelinas walked in and gave a wave to their friend Becker. Becker nodded and returned the greeting. Loud thrash swing metal jazz music blared over the store’s speakers.
“HEY GUYS!” Becker shouted above the din.
“Hey Becker, how’s business?” Mike asked.
“Not bad, Great Aunt Eunice had things pretty well in control before she passed on, so it was just a matter of not messing up too much,” Becker replied.
“Man, I still can’t believe someone left you an entire music shop. Not only that, but the entire building, as well,” Gelinas mused aloud.
“Shut up, Bill,” Mike chided.
“But come on, think about it. He’s a minor. Things like this usually fall into a trust or something. They wouldn’t just hand it over to a 16 year old. I mean what about his parents?” Gelinas continued.
“Shut up, Bill,” Aaron added, slightly louder.
“And what about the taxes on the building? Or the fact that he is working here? I’m pretty sure most labor laws frown on this sort of thing. Hell, Becker hasn’t even been in school since he took this over. Why is no one questioning this?” Bell demanded.
“SHUT UP, BILL!” everyone else shouted.
Bill threw up his hands in surrender and walked away toward the racks of CD’s for sale, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
“How are you dealing with the competition?” Aaron asked, flipping his thumb point toward the large front window to the building across the street. There was large plate glass window that read Snarfinkle Sound Systems and Music Emporium. In the window were various speakers, some instruments, and a few posters of upcoming CD’s.
Becker gave a dismissive wave. “Meh. That guys seems obsessed with me and Kenny for some reason. Hell, he’s even hired Justy part time to try and sabotage us,” Becker said with a laugh.
Mike winced. “Has that hurt business?”
“It’s hurt someone’s business, but not mine. My sales here have gone up twenty percent since Justy started working over there. As I said, the owner there is nuts,” Becker chuckled.
Hughes reached into his flannel jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “That explains this flyer Justy was handing out today.” Hughes then handed the flyer to Becker who looked it over and tried to suppress the urge to cackle.
“'3S & ME has the biggest selection and the best prices. How good are our prices? We’ll beat anyone’s prices, guaranteed. If you see a CD at LOUD THINGS INC., for cheaper, we’ll beat their price by 50% BUY FROM SNARFINKLE! LORD YUNG DEMANDS IT!'” Becker the guffawed loudly. “Oh my god, he’s flipped. He put Justy in charge of the advertising. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be boarding up the doors by the end of the week.”
The others shared a laugh and after a few moments, returned to a idle chatter. Gelinas returned with a couple discs and laid them on the counter. “Hey, where’s Kenny?”
Becker picked up the CD’s and began ringing them up. “Kenny? Oh, he’s up in the ‘lair,’” Becker answered, referring to the loft apartment above the shop that Kenny had converted into a workshop for instrument repair and occasional experimentation. Becker then walked over to the back corner of the shop where a fireman’s pole was prominently standing, extending through a large hole in the ceiling to the floor above. Becker looked up and called
out, “Hey Kenny, you up there?”
From the hole, Kenny’s head popped down and he scanned the room. He gave an upside down wave to the other four scouts and then looked down to Becker, “What did you need, Mr. Becker?”
“Nothing much, the guys just wanted to now what you were up to. You comin’ down?” Becker asked.
“In a few minutes, I was just putting the last touches on that custom job that’s getting picked up today,” Kenny answered and then his head retreated back into the hole.
Becker shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the counter. He then snapped his fingered and looked to Mike. “That reminds me, your order came in yesterday. Did you want to pick it up today?”
Mike nodded and reached for his wallet, as Becker searched under the counter for Mike’s order. The bell above the door jingled again as a man with a scruffy beard and a slightly wrinkled suit walked in. The tie was hung loosely around his neck and he gave a short wave to Becker.
Becker returned the wave. “Hey Jay! What up?”
Jason Bertovich, scratched his chin and then leaned up to the counter, “Hey, Headphones. Where’s Dr. Kennystein?”
“Kenny’s up in the lair,” Becker answered again.
“Cool. He said my bass would be ready today and I can’t wait to see what he did,” Jay said.
“Oh, you’re the custom job he was finishing up? Does that mean that Zombie Hockey League has another show soon?” Becker asked.
“Well, it was originally a repair job, but you know Kenny. He asked if he could tinker and I just can’t say no when it comes to modifications,” Jason answered. “and yeah, ZHL is gonna be playing the Rising Sun next weekend. Angela pulled some strings with Mr. Segawa if we agreed to sing at least two songs in Japanese.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem with Nicole,” Hughes commented.
“You need me to put up flyers again?” Becker asked, thumbing back to the printed flyer showing Jason playing bass, Nicole on a keyboard, his friend John Hoelscher on Drums, and John’s girlfriend Lina on electric guitar. Under the picture, it said "ZOMBIE HOCKEY LEAGUE – ONE NIGHT ONLY @ RUSSELL INN."
“Yeah, that’d be awesome, man. As soon and me and Nicole get some printed up, I’ll give you a stack,” Jay said with a gracious nod.
Becker then reached for the intercom next to the register and pushed the call button, “Hey Kenny, Jay is here. He said you were doing a repair job on his guitar.”
“Perfect timing. I was just packing it up in the case. I’ll be right down, Mr. Becker,” Kenny’s voice answered back. A moment later, Kenny slid down the fireman’s pole, a hard shell guitar case strapped to his back. Kenny disengaged the pole, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and walked over everyone waiting at the counter.
Mike finished paying for his CD’s and as Becker was handing him his change, Kenny laid the case on the counter and smiled happily. “I must say, Mr. Bertovich, this is some of my best work. You will be quite pleased.”
Jay smiled happily and flipped the locking snaps open and opened the top of the case. Staring back at him was his beloved ’62 Fender Jazz Bass, custom all black finish with matching headstock, ebony fingerboard and custom extra slim neck. Jason picked it up and lovingly looked at it. “So, what was wrong with the bridge pick-up? Did you figure out what that buzzing was?”
Kenny nodded. “You had a grounding issue so electrical interference was causing the buzzing. You also had a loose wire that was causing the pickup to go dead, so I completely resoldered all the electronics. I did install a new set of Duncan pickups so you should get a nice punchy sound or mellow tone depending on what you configure your amps to,” Kenny explained.
“What’s the deal with the slap switch?” Jason asked, pointing to the silverish toggle discretely sitting next to the tone knob.
“Ah, yes. That was my surprise. I added some active electronics that will be activated when you toggle the F.O.G. switch,” Kenny answered, grinning devilishly.
“F.O.G.?” Becker asked, curious.
“You didn’t… Cause If you did, then you really are the man,” Jason asked excitedly.
“I did and I am the man,” Kenny confirmed.
“What does this switch do?” Becker asked again.
Kenny pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Well, Mr. Bertovich and I were talking about improving the output of the amp set-up and we came to discussing what the perfect sound level would be and…”
“I said the only level that would do would be one that puts the FEAR OF GOD into anything that hears it,” Jason finished, positively beaming. “I have got to test it out.”
Becker upon hearing this description, nodded furiously. “He’s got to test this out. NOW.”
“Well, it would be pretty dangerous to do it here, but I supposed if we could hook up a few amps up on the roof, and if you all wore ear plugs...” Kenny mused, scratching down some notes the small notebook he pulled out of lab coat pocket.
“Roof? Amps? Oh, now I have to call the band,” Jason happily proposed. “Headphones, can I use your phone?”
Becker nodded and Jason began making calls to Nicole and the others, telling them to load up the van. They just got an impromptu gig. Becker eyed the store across the street and smiled evilly. Top this advertising, Snarfinkle. Becker thought.
Nicole finished hooking up her Korg keyboard to the soundboard that Kenny was manning, John adjusted the cymbals on his kit. Lina tuned the low E string on her ’82 Les Paul, plucking and adjusting the tuning peg, till she was happy with the note. Jason was helping Becker set up some mic stands for him and Nicole. The cold wind blew through his hair as he looked over to Nicole, wearing a dark brown faux fur coat. His tie whipped slightly in the wind as he finished adjusting the microphone to his height.
Becker, Mike, the Bills, and Aaron sat on the roof, near the ledge, looking briefly down from the second story. Kenny put on his headset and after fiddling with the soundboard, he gave Jay the thumbs up. The scouts all put in ear plugs, save Becker who planned to enjoy the FEAR OF GOD sound untainted.
Jason huddled the band together and they conversed about what they should play. After a brief discussion, it was decided that this being a rooftop concert, there was only one choice. They would follow in the footsteps of arguably the greatest band to ever come out of Liverpool, England. A band that set the standard for music so high it could only be imitated afterward, never again to be as innovative and fresh as it had been when they played it. He could only hope that Dirk, Stig, Nasty, and Barry would approve of (or at least not sue them for) their humble efforts to dare copy the living legends that would live on long after other living legends have died, The Rutles.
“One… Two… Three… Four!” John counted off and Jason began the galloping bassline.
Bill Hughes, Aaron Abdowmassy, Mike Quadrozzi, and Billy Gelinas walked in and gave a wave to their friend Becker. Becker nodded and returned the greeting. Loud thrash swing metal jazz music blared over the store’s speakers.
“HEY GUYS!” Becker shouted above the din.
“Hey Becker, how’s business?” Mike asked.
“Not bad, Great Aunt Eunice had things pretty well in control before she passed on, so it was just a matter of not messing up too much,” Becker replied.
“Man, I still can’t believe someone left you an entire music shop. Not only that, but the entire building, as well,” Gelinas mused aloud.
“Shut up, Bill,” Mike chided.
“But come on, think about it. He’s a minor. Things like this usually fall into a trust or something. They wouldn’t just hand it over to a 16 year old. I mean what about his parents?” Gelinas continued.
“Shut up, Bill,” Aaron added, slightly louder.
“And what about the taxes on the building? Or the fact that he is working here? I’m pretty sure most labor laws frown on this sort of thing. Hell, Becker hasn’t even been in school since he took this over. Why is no one questioning this?” Bell demanded.
“SHUT UP, BILL!” everyone else shouted.
Bill threw up his hands in surrender and walked away toward the racks of CD’s for sale, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.
“How are you dealing with the competition?” Aaron asked, flipping his thumb point toward the large front window to the building across the street. There was large plate glass window that read Snarfinkle Sound Systems and Music Emporium. In the window were various speakers, some instruments, and a few posters of upcoming CD’s.
Becker gave a dismissive wave. “Meh. That guys seems obsessed with me and Kenny for some reason. Hell, he’s even hired Justy part time to try and sabotage us,” Becker said with a laugh.
Mike winced. “Has that hurt business?”
“It’s hurt someone’s business, but not mine. My sales here have gone up twenty percent since Justy started working over there. As I said, the owner there is nuts,” Becker chuckled.
Hughes reached into his flannel jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “That explains this flyer Justy was handing out today.” Hughes then handed the flyer to Becker who looked it over and tried to suppress the urge to cackle.
“'3S & ME has the biggest selection and the best prices. How good are our prices? We’ll beat anyone’s prices, guaranteed. If you see a CD at LOUD THINGS INC., for cheaper, we’ll beat their price by 50% BUY FROM SNARFINKLE! LORD YUNG DEMANDS IT!'” Becker the guffawed loudly. “Oh my god, he’s flipped. He put Justy in charge of the advertising. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be boarding up the doors by the end of the week.”
The others shared a laugh and after a few moments, returned to a idle chatter. Gelinas returned with a couple discs and laid them on the counter. “Hey, where’s Kenny?”
Becker picked up the CD’s and began ringing them up. “Kenny? Oh, he’s up in the ‘lair,’” Becker answered, referring to the loft apartment above the shop that Kenny had converted into a workshop for instrument repair and occasional experimentation. Becker then walked over to the back corner of the shop where a fireman’s pole was prominently standing, extending through a large hole in the ceiling to the floor above. Becker looked up and called
out, “Hey Kenny, you up there?”
From the hole, Kenny’s head popped down and he scanned the room. He gave an upside down wave to the other four scouts and then looked down to Becker, “What did you need, Mr. Becker?”
“Nothing much, the guys just wanted to now what you were up to. You comin’ down?” Becker asked.
“In a few minutes, I was just putting the last touches on that custom job that’s getting picked up today,” Kenny answered and then his head retreated back into the hole.
Becker shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the counter. He then snapped his fingered and looked to Mike. “That reminds me, your order came in yesterday. Did you want to pick it up today?”
Mike nodded and reached for his wallet, as Becker searched under the counter for Mike’s order. The bell above the door jingled again as a man with a scruffy beard and a slightly wrinkled suit walked in. The tie was hung loosely around his neck and he gave a short wave to Becker.
Becker returned the wave. “Hey Jay! What up?”
Jason Bertovich, scratched his chin and then leaned up to the counter, “Hey, Headphones. Where’s Dr. Kennystein?”
“Kenny’s up in the lair,” Becker answered again.
“Cool. He said my bass would be ready today and I can’t wait to see what he did,” Jay said.
“Oh, you’re the custom job he was finishing up? Does that mean that Zombie Hockey League has another show soon?” Becker asked.
“Well, it was originally a repair job, but you know Kenny. He asked if he could tinker and I just can’t say no when it comes to modifications,” Jason answered. “and yeah, ZHL is gonna be playing the Rising Sun next weekend. Angela pulled some strings with Mr. Segawa if we agreed to sing at least two songs in Japanese.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem with Nicole,” Hughes commented.
“You need me to put up flyers again?” Becker asked, thumbing back to the printed flyer showing Jason playing bass, Nicole on a keyboard, his friend John Hoelscher on Drums, and John’s girlfriend Lina on electric guitar. Under the picture, it said "ZOMBIE HOCKEY LEAGUE – ONE NIGHT ONLY @ RUSSELL INN."
“Yeah, that’d be awesome, man. As soon and me and Nicole get some printed up, I’ll give you a stack,” Jay said with a gracious nod.
Becker then reached for the intercom next to the register and pushed the call button, “Hey Kenny, Jay is here. He said you were doing a repair job on his guitar.”
“Perfect timing. I was just packing it up in the case. I’ll be right down, Mr. Becker,” Kenny’s voice answered back. A moment later, Kenny slid down the fireman’s pole, a hard shell guitar case strapped to his back. Kenny disengaged the pole, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and walked over everyone waiting at the counter.
Mike finished paying for his CD’s and as Becker was handing him his change, Kenny laid the case on the counter and smiled happily. “I must say, Mr. Bertovich, this is some of my best work. You will be quite pleased.”
Jay smiled happily and flipped the locking snaps open and opened the top of the case. Staring back at him was his beloved ’62 Fender Jazz Bass, custom all black finish with matching headstock, ebony fingerboard and custom extra slim neck. Jason picked it up and lovingly looked at it. “So, what was wrong with the bridge pick-up? Did you figure out what that buzzing was?”
Kenny nodded. “You had a grounding issue so electrical interference was causing the buzzing. You also had a loose wire that was causing the pickup to go dead, so I completely resoldered all the electronics. I did install a new set of Duncan pickups so you should get a nice punchy sound or mellow tone depending on what you configure your amps to,” Kenny explained.
“What’s the deal with the slap switch?” Jason asked, pointing to the silverish toggle discretely sitting next to the tone knob.
“Ah, yes. That was my surprise. I added some active electronics that will be activated when you toggle the F.O.G. switch,” Kenny answered, grinning devilishly.
“F.O.G.?” Becker asked, curious.
“You didn’t… Cause If you did, then you really are the man,” Jason asked excitedly.
“I did and I am the man,” Kenny confirmed.
“What does this switch do?” Becker asked again.
Kenny pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Well, Mr. Bertovich and I were talking about improving the output of the amp set-up and we came to discussing what the perfect sound level would be and…”
“I said the only level that would do would be one that puts the FEAR OF GOD into anything that hears it,” Jason finished, positively beaming. “I have got to test it out.”
Becker upon hearing this description, nodded furiously. “He’s got to test this out. NOW.”
“Well, it would be pretty dangerous to do it here, but I supposed if we could hook up a few amps up on the roof, and if you all wore ear plugs...” Kenny mused, scratching down some notes the small notebook he pulled out of lab coat pocket.
“Roof? Amps? Oh, now I have to call the band,” Jason happily proposed. “Headphones, can I use your phone?”
Becker nodded and Jason began making calls to Nicole and the others, telling them to load up the van. They just got an impromptu gig. Becker eyed the store across the street and smiled evilly. Top this advertising, Snarfinkle. Becker thought.
Nicole finished hooking up her Korg keyboard to the soundboard that Kenny was manning, John adjusted the cymbals on his kit. Lina tuned the low E string on her ’82 Les Paul, plucking and adjusting the tuning peg, till she was happy with the note. Jason was helping Becker set up some mic stands for him and Nicole. The cold wind blew through his hair as he looked over to Nicole, wearing a dark brown faux fur coat. His tie whipped slightly in the wind as he finished adjusting the microphone to his height.
Becker, Mike, the Bills, and Aaron sat on the roof, near the ledge, looking briefly down from the second story. Kenny put on his headset and after fiddling with the soundboard, he gave Jay the thumbs up. The scouts all put in ear plugs, save Becker who planned to enjoy the FEAR OF GOD sound untainted.
Jason huddled the band together and they conversed about what they should play. After a brief discussion, it was decided that this being a rooftop concert, there was only one choice. They would follow in the footsteps of arguably the greatest band to ever come out of Liverpool, England. A band that set the standard for music so high it could only be imitated afterward, never again to be as innovative and fresh as it had been when they played it. He could only hope that Dirk, Stig, Nasty, and Barry would approve of (or at least not sue them for) their humble efforts to dare copy the living legends that would live on long after other living legends have died, The Rutles.
“One… Two… Three… Four!” John counted off and Jason began the galloping bassline.
Working up a fever in a one-horse town
Was a Jockey by the name of Joe
He didn't have a lot of you might call luck
But he had a lot of get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Tall in the saddle in a one-horse town
Joey knew someday he'd hit the road
He traded with a dealer for a pick-up truck
And went looking for a medium load
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go… Get up and go back home
Everybody’s waitin’ for ya
Cruising down the highway doing sixty-five
In the middle of the double white line
His foot down on the gas and his head in the clouds
He didn't see the one-way sign
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go… Get up and go back home
We’re all waitin’ for ya
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Was a Jockey by the name of Joe
He didn't have a lot of you might call luck
But he had a lot of get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Tall in the saddle in a one-horse town
Joey knew someday he'd hit the road
He traded with a dealer for a pick-up truck
And went looking for a medium load
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go… Get up and go back home
Everybody’s waitin’ for ya
Cruising down the highway doing sixty-five
In the middle of the double white line
His foot down on the gas and his head in the clouds
He didn't see the one-way sign
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go… Get up and go back home
We’re all waitin’ for ya
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Get up and go
Get up and go
Get up and go back home
Jason looked down over the ledge to see the small crowd gathering at the front of the shop. He smiled to Nicole and then addressed the crowd, “I’d like to thank you on behalf of the group and I hope we passed the audition.”
From below he could hear Matt Swett’s sarcastic voice cutting through the crowd noise, “JUMP!!”
Becker pulled out a pair of small binoculars and looked down at the scene. He saw Snarfinkle staring at disbelief at the shattered windows of his shop and the crowd of people waiting to be let into Becker’s shop. Becker saw Snarfinkle look straight at him, up on the roof, and shake his fist in futile anger.
Becker smiled in satisfaction. Then he felt the cuffs slap on his wrist as him and everyone else were now being led away by state troopers for disturbing the peace.
From below he could hear Matt Swett’s sarcastic voice cutting through the crowd noise, “JUMP!!”
Becker pulled out a pair of small binoculars and looked down at the scene. He saw Snarfinkle staring at disbelief at the shattered windows of his shop and the crowd of people waiting to be let into Becker’s shop. Becker saw Snarfinkle look straight at him, up on the roof, and shake his fist in futile anger.
Becker smiled in satisfaction. Then he felt the cuffs slap on his wrist as him and everyone else were now being led away by state troopers for disturbing the peace.
“So what did you think, Mr. Becker?” Kenny asked as the lights came back up. There was no reply other than the sound of light snoring. Kenny looked over and saw his friend reclined in his seat and sleeping.
Kenny smiled. It’s just as well, as even if he was the center of that last universe, Becker would’ve probably objected to the fact that the last half of the scouting report focused on Nicole and Mr. Bertovich’s band.
Kenny checked his watch and realized it was very late. Becker was usually staying over on weekends these day so they could both take advantage of the extra lab time. He had programmed the computer with an interactive recording to answer the phone if Mr. Becker’s parents had called asking his whereabouts, they would be informed that it was okay for him to stay the night.
Kenny stifled a yawn. He was tempted to shut down and turn in for the night himself, but there was one disc that had caught his attention when he was choosing some to bring down and now was as good a time as any to watch it. He reached into the stack and picked up the disc in question, on it’s cover were several young women who looked hauntingly familiar. Etched across in a thin blocky print was the title: Girl Scouts ½.
Kenny decided to forgo the blurb on the back, because he had a pretty good idea what was different about this reality. He inserted the disc and he took a sip from the juice pouch he had retrieved from the storage cooler under his seat.
Opening Pandora’s Box always made his thirsty.
Kenny smiled. It’s just as well, as even if he was the center of that last universe, Becker would’ve probably objected to the fact that the last half of the scouting report focused on Nicole and Mr. Bertovich’s band.
Kenny checked his watch and realized it was very late. Becker was usually staying over on weekends these day so they could both take advantage of the extra lab time. He had programmed the computer with an interactive recording to answer the phone if Mr. Becker’s parents had called asking his whereabouts, they would be informed that it was okay for him to stay the night.
Kenny stifled a yawn. He was tempted to shut down and turn in for the night himself, but there was one disc that had caught his attention when he was choosing some to bring down and now was as good a time as any to watch it. He reached into the stack and picked up the disc in question, on it’s cover were several young women who looked hauntingly familiar. Etched across in a thin blocky print was the title: Girl Scouts ½.
Kenny decided to forgo the blurb on the back, because he had a pretty good idea what was different about this reality. He inserted the disc and he took a sip from the juice pouch he had retrieved from the storage cooler under his seat.
Opening Pandora’s Box always made his thirsty.
Matty Atanian wheeled her bike into the Church in the Acres’ parking lot. Clad in her red wool jacket that covered up her khaki vest and the dark blue shirt that lay underneath that. She smoothed out her khaki shorts, choosing to wear the shorts versus the skirt since she chosen to ride her bike in.
She passed by her mother’s van. Her mother had left before Matty due to another meeting to follow after the Troop 192’s business. She watched as several of the local girls, clad in combinations of green, blue, white, and khaki and to some extent the brown that made up of the uniforms of the much younger girls’ Brownie uniforms.
Matty also couldn’t help but noticed the khaki, red, and olive green that made up the Boy Scout uniforms that had started to populate the Church in the Acres now that Boy Scout Troop 42 had begun meeting there. Matty sighed. Boy Scouts meant that He was there as well.
Matty really hating that feeling she was getting in her stomach every the thought of Sam Porter. She felt so stupid, like she was twelve all over again and mooning over some boy pop star that she would never attain. Of course, Sam was not helping not her feel stupid the way he treated her each time she tried to approach him.
Her younger brother, Kurt Porter had tried to assuage her feelings somewhat by explaining that he wasn’t really a giant chauvinist douchebag, but he had just gone through a rather nasty breakup with his ex-girlfriend, Rhoda, and he wasn’t particularly in the favorable mindset when it came to those who bore the double x chromosome.
Matty had appreciated the boy’s kind nature and could see why Sharon and him were so smitten with each other, though they wouldn’t dare admit it anyone else. Kurt was certainly a different type of boy than her twin brother Nick Porter. Nick wasn’t exactly a bad kid, he just seemed really, really blunt which was a stark contrast to Kurt’s inherent politeness. He too was also attached to a significant other, though unlike Kurt, he wasn’t interested in any of the girls in her troop, but rather had joked that had hooked up with a “sugar mama,” which was referring to his twenty year old girlfriend, a college student who worked at the local mall by the name of Jayne Courtemache.
Also not making things very easy for Matty was the bizarre curse that had become part of life after an unfortunate incident during a trip to the rural backcountry of China. Now when she was exposed to cold water, she and several girls from her troop changed their physical forms, hers being that of a red-haired male version of herself.
This curse was especially troublesome for her as now she seemed to be a magnet for cold water and it always seemed to strike her at inopportune times. It also meant that her clothes suddenly didn’t fit very well, her male form being slightly more muscular and taller. It also meant that very often her male form looked very, very silly. Matty had begun to make it a habit to were gender-neutral clothing as often as possible, though that still meant that things like bras and panties were a problem, even if they weren’t visible under the clothing, panties were not meant to contain certain anatomy comfortably. There were times that she wished she had been born a boy. Even if she had been cursed to turn into a girl, at least her male counterpart would be able to pull of the boy’s clothes as a girl, the lucky bastard.
Some nights, like tonight however, that couldn’t be avoided and now Matty found herself praying that she would remain as Matty the whole evening and that Sam wouldn’t end up seeing his “buddy” ‘Matt Hayes’ in a Girl Scout uniform.
She sighed again and walked inside. As she entered the meeting hall, she was approached by her friends in the troop, a small group of girls who either shared her cursed condition, knew of her curse, or were just in general, not catty to the point of being intolerable.
The first to greet her were her the girls that had made the trip to China with her all those months back, all who were Seniors in the troop. There was Sharon Abdowmassy, who was cursed to become a duck and was currently denying that she and Kurt Porter were an exclusive couple. Next were the pair known as The Jills, Jill Hughes and Jill Gelinas who would transform into a cat and dog respectively, but despite that, they got along just fine. Finally, there was Michelle ‘Micki’ Quadrozzi, who was cursed to become a small, bushy-tailed squirrel.
Next were the Juniors that made up their patrol, clad in their green skirts and sashes, and while they were younger, they were no less valued members of their patrol. There was the slightly sarcastic Matilda "Matty" Swett, which earned Matty’s approval by the fact that she too bore the unusual moniker, even if in this case it was only a nickname. Then there was the very timid bookish looking girl with the plain blond pigtail whose young appearance betrayed the pure genius dwelling behind those thick glasses. She was named Kendra Pendrell and she was currently conversing with her friend Joan Becker, whom was alternating between nodding and shouting “WHAT?!” over her headphones.
Matty checked her watch and saw that she had a few minutes until the meeting began proper, so she took a seat with her friends to catch up with them.
“So, ladies, what’s the good word?” Matty asked jovially, trying to hide how uncomfortable these meetings now made her.
“More trouble,” Sharon mumbled.
“What’s going on?” Matty asked, now concerned.
Micki answered. “Justine, what else?”
Matty groaned. Justine Yung was a girl from another patrol who managed to get elected to as her patrol’s Patrol Leader as was now sitting on The Court of Honor alongside Micki and one other girl. Justine and her Assistant Patrol Leader, a devoted lackey named Hecuba Proctor, had taken to treating the position and the Court as her personal playthings, much to the delight of no one.
“I still can’t believe anyone in her patrol voted for her,” Jill Gelinas mused, “I mean, if you looked up Catty, Vindictive, and Shrew in the dictionary, her picture would be in all three places.”
“Jill, please. Let’s not get personal, ‘kay?” Matty asked. Matty knew that Justine was getting out of hand, but she believed the girls should be self-sufficient in handling these matters and didn’t want to step in, at least not yet.
“Well, in any case, we can take care of ourselves,” Jill Hughes started, “but at the rate Justine is going, the girls in the other patrols are going to revolt and if Justine thinks of herself as queen, they may give her a lesson on Marie Antoinette that will be most realistic.”
“Point taken,” Matty sighed. “If it goes on much longer, I will talk to the other adult leaders and we’ll have a discussion with her, okay?”
The others nodded in agreement.
“In non Justine news, I wanted to ask you, Sharon, if you got my notes last night?” Matty asked, looking in Sharon’s direction.
Sharon nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have the next chapter revised and back to you by the end of the week.
“Excellent,” Matty hissed like the evil Billionaire of The Simpsons fame Ms. Montana Burns, rifling her fingers to match the impression. Sharon had agreed to revise and rewrite the next chapter in Matty’s fan-fiction series, Sailor Matty and the Sailor Seniors, a rather gratuitous self insertion fan-fic she had come up with, in which a fictionalized version of herself was the long lost princess of the Moon Kingdom and the other girls in Troop 192 were reincarnated warriors who fought alongside her in the battle to preserve love and justice.
“You really dig that Shojo stuff, don’t you, Matty?” Hughes ribbed.
“I like other stuff, too,” Matty said defensively and then got up as she saw that the meeting was about to begin in earnest. She decided she wanted nothing more right now than a nice cup of hot tea.
Matty sat in the kitchen alone, a rather nice change since usually several the adult leaders would sit here and gossip while drinking coffee, neither of which interested Matty. Matty removed the whistling kettle and poured the hot water into a polystyrene cup and then began to methodically dip a teabag.
She heard a noise and turned to face the doorway. She nearly jumped when she saw a young Asian boy in a Boy Scout Uniform standing there, staring at her.
“Smeg, don’t do that!” Matty said. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
The boy continued to stare and Matty shifted uncomfortably, “Um, is there something you need?”
“I have come for you.” He began walking towards her.
“Oh, yes? What can I do for you?” He was getting quite close to her. Too close for comfort. “Um…?” Matty then said.
He reached for her face and brought it to his own, and placed his lips upon hers.
Oh, dear, this is not at all good, Matty thought. “AAAACCKKKKKK!!!” was what she actually said. Or tried to say, at least. His lips were still over hers and somehow the way he held her chin prevented her backing away.
Matty didn’t appreciate this boy’s intentions whatsoever and if this boy was going to intrude upon her person, there was only one thing to do. She proceeded to splash the hot tea over her unwanted paramour’s head in hopes of getting him to release her lips. This surprised the boy and, much to Matty’s relief, he quickly jerked away in surprise.
Matt looked at the boy, and was even more surprised than she was when the other had kissed her, for the boy was no longer a boy.
He was a girl.
“Puh… Puh… Puh…” Matty spat out. Finally, she managed to form the word she had been having the trouble with. “Puh… Perfume? Wha… what are you duh… doing here?!”
The young woman smiled evilly. “Finally I catch you, Matty. I give you the Kiss of Death, and now I kill you.”
“Eerp,” Matty said.
She passed by her mother’s van. Her mother had left before Matty due to another meeting to follow after the Troop 192’s business. She watched as several of the local girls, clad in combinations of green, blue, white, and khaki and to some extent the brown that made up of the uniforms of the much younger girls’ Brownie uniforms.
Matty also couldn’t help but noticed the khaki, red, and olive green that made up the Boy Scout uniforms that had started to populate the Church in the Acres now that Boy Scout Troop 42 had begun meeting there. Matty sighed. Boy Scouts meant that He was there as well.
Matty really hating that feeling she was getting in her stomach every the thought of Sam Porter. She felt so stupid, like she was twelve all over again and mooning over some boy pop star that she would never attain. Of course, Sam was not helping not her feel stupid the way he treated her each time she tried to approach him.
Her younger brother, Kurt Porter had tried to assuage her feelings somewhat by explaining that he wasn’t really a giant chauvinist douchebag, but he had just gone through a rather nasty breakup with his ex-girlfriend, Rhoda, and he wasn’t particularly in the favorable mindset when it came to those who bore the double x chromosome.
Matty had appreciated the boy’s kind nature and could see why Sharon and him were so smitten with each other, though they wouldn’t dare admit it anyone else. Kurt was certainly a different type of boy than her twin brother Nick Porter. Nick wasn’t exactly a bad kid, he just seemed really, really blunt which was a stark contrast to Kurt’s inherent politeness. He too was also attached to a significant other, though unlike Kurt, he wasn’t interested in any of the girls in her troop, but rather had joked that had hooked up with a “sugar mama,” which was referring to his twenty year old girlfriend, a college student who worked at the local mall by the name of Jayne Courtemache.
Also not making things very easy for Matty was the bizarre curse that had become part of life after an unfortunate incident during a trip to the rural backcountry of China. Now when she was exposed to cold water, she and several girls from her troop changed their physical forms, hers being that of a red-haired male version of herself.
This curse was especially troublesome for her as now she seemed to be a magnet for cold water and it always seemed to strike her at inopportune times. It also meant that her clothes suddenly didn’t fit very well, her male form being slightly more muscular and taller. It also meant that very often her male form looked very, very silly. Matty had begun to make it a habit to were gender-neutral clothing as often as possible, though that still meant that things like bras and panties were a problem, even if they weren’t visible under the clothing, panties were not meant to contain certain anatomy comfortably. There were times that she wished she had been born a boy. Even if she had been cursed to turn into a girl, at least her male counterpart would be able to pull of the boy’s clothes as a girl, the lucky bastard.
Some nights, like tonight however, that couldn’t be avoided and now Matty found herself praying that she would remain as Matty the whole evening and that Sam wouldn’t end up seeing his “buddy” ‘Matt Hayes’ in a Girl Scout uniform.
She sighed again and walked inside. As she entered the meeting hall, she was approached by her friends in the troop, a small group of girls who either shared her cursed condition, knew of her curse, or were just in general, not catty to the point of being intolerable.
The first to greet her were her the girls that had made the trip to China with her all those months back, all who were Seniors in the troop. There was Sharon Abdowmassy, who was cursed to become a duck and was currently denying that she and Kurt Porter were an exclusive couple. Next were the pair known as The Jills, Jill Hughes and Jill Gelinas who would transform into a cat and dog respectively, but despite that, they got along just fine. Finally, there was Michelle ‘Micki’ Quadrozzi, who was cursed to become a small, bushy-tailed squirrel.
Next were the Juniors that made up their patrol, clad in their green skirts and sashes, and while they were younger, they were no less valued members of their patrol. There was the slightly sarcastic Matilda "Matty" Swett, which earned Matty’s approval by the fact that she too bore the unusual moniker, even if in this case it was only a nickname. Then there was the very timid bookish looking girl with the plain blond pigtail whose young appearance betrayed the pure genius dwelling behind those thick glasses. She was named Kendra Pendrell and she was currently conversing with her friend Joan Becker, whom was alternating between nodding and shouting “WHAT?!” over her headphones.
Matty checked her watch and saw that she had a few minutes until the meeting began proper, so she took a seat with her friends to catch up with them.
“So, ladies, what’s the good word?” Matty asked jovially, trying to hide how uncomfortable these meetings now made her.
“More trouble,” Sharon mumbled.
“What’s going on?” Matty asked, now concerned.
Micki answered. “Justine, what else?”
Matty groaned. Justine Yung was a girl from another patrol who managed to get elected to as her patrol’s Patrol Leader as was now sitting on The Court of Honor alongside Micki and one other girl. Justine and her Assistant Patrol Leader, a devoted lackey named Hecuba Proctor, had taken to treating the position and the Court as her personal playthings, much to the delight of no one.
“I still can’t believe anyone in her patrol voted for her,” Jill Gelinas mused, “I mean, if you looked up Catty, Vindictive, and Shrew in the dictionary, her picture would be in all three places.”
“Jill, please. Let’s not get personal, ‘kay?” Matty asked. Matty knew that Justine was getting out of hand, but she believed the girls should be self-sufficient in handling these matters and didn’t want to step in, at least not yet.
“Well, in any case, we can take care of ourselves,” Jill Hughes started, “but at the rate Justine is going, the girls in the other patrols are going to revolt and if Justine thinks of herself as queen, they may give her a lesson on Marie Antoinette that will be most realistic.”
“Point taken,” Matty sighed. “If it goes on much longer, I will talk to the other adult leaders and we’ll have a discussion with her, okay?”
The others nodded in agreement.
“In non Justine news, I wanted to ask you, Sharon, if you got my notes last night?” Matty asked, looking in Sharon’s direction.
Sharon nodded. “Yeah, I’ll have the next chapter revised and back to you by the end of the week.
“Excellent,” Matty hissed like the evil Billionaire of The Simpsons fame Ms. Montana Burns, rifling her fingers to match the impression. Sharon had agreed to revise and rewrite the next chapter in Matty’s fan-fiction series, Sailor Matty and the Sailor Seniors, a rather gratuitous self insertion fan-fic she had come up with, in which a fictionalized version of herself was the long lost princess of the Moon Kingdom and the other girls in Troop 192 were reincarnated warriors who fought alongside her in the battle to preserve love and justice.
“You really dig that Shojo stuff, don’t you, Matty?” Hughes ribbed.
“I like other stuff, too,” Matty said defensively and then got up as she saw that the meeting was about to begin in earnest. She decided she wanted nothing more right now than a nice cup of hot tea.
Matty sat in the kitchen alone, a rather nice change since usually several the adult leaders would sit here and gossip while drinking coffee, neither of which interested Matty. Matty removed the whistling kettle and poured the hot water into a polystyrene cup and then began to methodically dip a teabag.
She heard a noise and turned to face the doorway. She nearly jumped when she saw a young Asian boy in a Boy Scout Uniform standing there, staring at her.
“Smeg, don’t do that!” Matty said. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
The boy continued to stare and Matty shifted uncomfortably, “Um, is there something you need?”
“I have come for you.” He began walking towards her.
“Oh, yes? What can I do for you?” He was getting quite close to her. Too close for comfort. “Um…?” Matty then said.
He reached for her face and brought it to his own, and placed his lips upon hers.
Oh, dear, this is not at all good, Matty thought. “AAAACCKKKKKK!!!” was what she actually said. Or tried to say, at least. His lips were still over hers and somehow the way he held her chin prevented her backing away.
Matty didn’t appreciate this boy’s intentions whatsoever and if this boy was going to intrude upon her person, there was only one thing to do. She proceeded to splash the hot tea over her unwanted paramour’s head in hopes of getting him to release her lips. This surprised the boy and, much to Matty’s relief, he quickly jerked away in surprise.
Matt looked at the boy, and was even more surprised than she was when the other had kissed her, for the boy was no longer a boy.
He was a girl.
“Puh… Puh… Puh…” Matty spat out. Finally, she managed to form the word she had been having the trouble with. “Puh… Perfume? Wha… what are you duh… doing here?!”
The young woman smiled evilly. “Finally I catch you, Matty. I give you the Kiss of Death, and now I kill you.”
“Eerp,” Matty said.
“Whoa…” was all Matt Atanian could muster from his position behind Kenny.
Kenny jerked his head back in shock and saw that Matt had been standing behind him, staring at the screen. Becker still snored lightly in his chair. “Mr. Atanian, what are you doing here?” Kenny whispered.
“Oh, sorry for the surprise. I was just paying a quick late night visit to retrieve something from home and after I came through the black hole conduit, I saw the flickering lights through the door and figured you must still be up,” Matt explained in a hushed manner.
“How are things in Japan, Mr. Atanian?” Kenny asked, since he had not visited himself for the last few weeks, though occasionally Matt or the others would stop by and pay a visit thanks to the portable black hole conduit he had developed after studying "mallet-space," and through which he had installed a passage which connected his lab to their new home at Maison Ikkoku.
“Things are okay. The guys are in school right now and class was canceled at the school I'm teaching at, so since I wasn’t doing much else I figured I'd take care of an errand while everyone in the States was asleep. Let me tell you, those guys were not happy to find out that Japanese schools ran six days a week. How are things here?” Matt asked.
Kenny shrugged, “They are satisfactory. The troop certainly is not as much fun now that you guys are over there, but the Garden Snakes are a resilient bunch. You and the others made sure of that.”
Matt smiled warmly and mock punched Kenny in the shoulder. “Good to hear. What about Justy?”
Kenny rolled his eyes. “Justy is still Justy and Proctor is still Proctor, though if the upcoming elections change things, it can only be for the better.”
“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help. Just say the word and we’ll be through the mallet-space black hole like a hammer aimed at a pervert,” Matt said. “Now,” Matt started gesturing his head toward the large screen, “What’s all this then?”
Kenny proceeded to explain how he was now able to view pieces of the happenings in parallel universes as a way to scout potential destinations for the StarGate.
“So, that was my evil female twin from a parallel universe, eh?” Matt said with a knowing nod.
“She’s not evil, Mr. Atanian, just parallel,” Kenny corrected.
“Oh, she most certainly is evil. Tea bags? Who makes hot tea with bags? That’s a dead giveaway, ain’t it? Anyone knows the only real way to go is loose leaf,” Matt snorted and then grinned.
Kenny couldn’t help but grin himself. “Well, if it helps you sleep at night, you will always be the definitive version of you.”
“So… um… this machine you made, it can locate any parallel universe, right?”
“If we input in the proper parameters it should be able to find something resembling what you are looking for,” Kenny answered.
Matt fidgeted for a moment. “I know it’s really late, but do you think you can locate a specific universe for me?”
Kenny sat up. Becker continued to snore lightly. “Sure, I repaired the machine after Mr. Becker’s incident earlier this evening. We can input new data now, but let’s go to the lab so we don’t disturb Mr. Becker.”
Matt nodded and the pair quietly left the darkened theatre. Becker continued to sleep, mumbling in his sleep, “Damn Bertovich, it’s my universe…”
Back in the lab, Kenny sat at the terminal as Matt stood behind his seat, looking up at the giant monitor in childish delight. Kenny typed the last bits of data in and stabbed his finger to touch a holographic button. “That’s the last of the data that needed input. It should be ready in about thirty seconds. I must admit, it’s an intriguing idea you have, though, one could say a touch…”
“Egotistical?” Matt said, trying to help finish Kenny’s thought.
“Self indulgent, maybe,” Kenny corrected.
Matt shrugged, “How many fan-fic writers ever get this opportunity?”
“Indeed,” Kenny said with a nod.
There was a slight ding and the toaster ejected a DVD case. Matt retrieved it and if his smile were any wider, his cheeks would have ripped themselves right off his face.
Matt looked at it, touching it as if it might heal lepers and restore sight to the blind. Matt didn’t need to read the back. He knew what it would tell him. After all, he’d spent the last several months writing it. Matt again read the cover to convince himself it was real, it read Neon Genesis Boy Scouts.
Kenny coughed and held his hand out expectantly. Matt understood and pulled the disc out of the packaging, giving it to Kenny so they could watch what, until now, he had only seen in his mind…
Kenny jerked his head back in shock and saw that Matt had been standing behind him, staring at the screen. Becker still snored lightly in his chair. “Mr. Atanian, what are you doing here?” Kenny whispered.
“Oh, sorry for the surprise. I was just paying a quick late night visit to retrieve something from home and after I came through the black hole conduit, I saw the flickering lights through the door and figured you must still be up,” Matt explained in a hushed manner.
“How are things in Japan, Mr. Atanian?” Kenny asked, since he had not visited himself for the last few weeks, though occasionally Matt or the others would stop by and pay a visit thanks to the portable black hole conduit he had developed after studying "mallet-space," and through which he had installed a passage which connected his lab to their new home at Maison Ikkoku.
“Things are okay. The guys are in school right now and class was canceled at the school I'm teaching at, so since I wasn’t doing much else I figured I'd take care of an errand while everyone in the States was asleep. Let me tell you, those guys were not happy to find out that Japanese schools ran six days a week. How are things here?” Matt asked.
Kenny shrugged, “They are satisfactory. The troop certainly is not as much fun now that you guys are over there, but the Garden Snakes are a resilient bunch. You and the others made sure of that.”
Matt smiled warmly and mock punched Kenny in the shoulder. “Good to hear. What about Justy?”
Kenny rolled his eyes. “Justy is still Justy and Proctor is still Proctor, though if the upcoming elections change things, it can only be for the better.”
“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help. Just say the word and we’ll be through the mallet-space black hole like a hammer aimed at a pervert,” Matt said. “Now,” Matt started gesturing his head toward the large screen, “What’s all this then?”
Kenny proceeded to explain how he was now able to view pieces of the happenings in parallel universes as a way to scout potential destinations for the StarGate.
“So, that was my evil female twin from a parallel universe, eh?” Matt said with a knowing nod.
“She’s not evil, Mr. Atanian, just parallel,” Kenny corrected.
“Oh, she most certainly is evil. Tea bags? Who makes hot tea with bags? That’s a dead giveaway, ain’t it? Anyone knows the only real way to go is loose leaf,” Matt snorted and then grinned.
Kenny couldn’t help but grin himself. “Well, if it helps you sleep at night, you will always be the definitive version of you.”
“So… um… this machine you made, it can locate any parallel universe, right?”
“If we input in the proper parameters it should be able to find something resembling what you are looking for,” Kenny answered.
Matt fidgeted for a moment. “I know it’s really late, but do you think you can locate a specific universe for me?”
Kenny sat up. Becker continued to snore lightly. “Sure, I repaired the machine after Mr. Becker’s incident earlier this evening. We can input new data now, but let’s go to the lab so we don’t disturb Mr. Becker.”
Matt nodded and the pair quietly left the darkened theatre. Becker continued to sleep, mumbling in his sleep, “Damn Bertovich, it’s my universe…”
Back in the lab, Kenny sat at the terminal as Matt stood behind his seat, looking up at the giant monitor in childish delight. Kenny typed the last bits of data in and stabbed his finger to touch a holographic button. “That’s the last of the data that needed input. It should be ready in about thirty seconds. I must admit, it’s an intriguing idea you have, though, one could say a touch…”
“Egotistical?” Matt said, trying to help finish Kenny’s thought.
“Self indulgent, maybe,” Kenny corrected.
Matt shrugged, “How many fan-fic writers ever get this opportunity?”
“Indeed,” Kenny said with a nod.
There was a slight ding and the toaster ejected a DVD case. Matt retrieved it and if his smile were any wider, his cheeks would have ripped themselves right off his face.
Matt looked at it, touching it as if it might heal lepers and restore sight to the blind. Matt didn’t need to read the back. He knew what it would tell him. After all, he’d spent the last several months writing it. Matt again read the cover to convince himself it was real, it read Neon Genesis Boy Scouts.
Kenny coughed and held his hand out expectantly. Matt understood and pulled the disc out of the packaging, giving it to Kenny so they could watch what, until now, he had only seen in his mind…