AN ELDEREPI

     By: Jo, with parts by Diz, Judy, Susan, Sue, annsmac, Audrey, and Lucilla

 (Note: there had been a gap of some months in the co-authored epi writing on CrowePeople and I decided to try and get it started

again with this new set-up.  Onlist, Audrey had posted an e-mail to Lucilla...no relation to sisters of emperors living or dead...in which

she says of a party I had mentioned: "There IS no party, honey.  This happens every time the aides at the home allow Jo an extra

portion of rum.  They give her the rum because she thinks it's the H.M.S. Home, run by a dashing blonde captain.  Sad, but we try

our best to catch the rumors she has started and nip them in the Bud. So to speak." This was in June of 2003 and this storyline is the

ONLY storyline in which I was being, gulp, kind...and letting someone else have the General of the Felix Legions for the ENTIRE

storyline.  I was, in later epis (Journey Into Jeopardy) to pay a terrible and rather awesome price for this generosity of mind, body,

heart, soul, and spirit. Sigh! But it is in this storyline that the famous...or infamous, depending on how they are viewed...Fuegan

gowns the female cast members wear make their appearance...as well as the pink sponge itsveryself, that sponge that the good

Captain mentioned later with loose lips that nearly sank my ship.)

Part 1: (the set-up) by Jo
 

It was dark. The hillside was terribly steep Jack wondered how, without ropes, he would

manage the climb to the Home, perched as it was atop the narrow ledge between condor

nests. He set his fine jaw, teeth clenched in determination.

Nothing would stop him now. He had come too far. WAY too far!
 

Now, here he was...at last. The H.M.S. Home was only a week's journey up the steep

nail-embedded face of the glass-like sheer cliff. What was that to HIM? His Jo awaited

on the ledge! He had promised her, he had, that velvet night in the Venezuelan cave, that

he would return in time to take her to Lucilla's party. He laughed! The Michigan woman

had tried to convince him there WAS no party! But he knew better! Jo had said there

was. And Jo was a noble woman. A woman of principle.
 

In the darkness, a sudden mournful wail rose up from the dry riverbed a half mile below,

then was cut abruptly off as though an alley cat had been smucked with a large brick.

Jack, his ears keen from years of listening to dolphins talk, knew, though, that it was

merely Lucilla herself. Doubtless, she had yet once again forgotten her large, golden

barge simply would NOT fit between the giant triangular boulders straddling the wild

cataracts that formed the entrance to her vast Fuegan estate here almost at the very tip

of South America.

"Damn!" shouted Lucilla, stomping her dainty foot on the barge deck. "You there!" she addressed one of her oarsmen. "Get those sacks OFF Ute or she'll never be able to climb

the teensy, wobbly rope ladder the half-mile up to my hacienda on the ledge." Lucilla,

you see, was most considerate of her guests. 

The oarsman, a young man of some promise whom Lucilla had rescued last spring from

his servitude as a dishwasher in an Australian dive, brushed his brown hair back from

his sweaty forehead, smiled, and began to lift the 40 or so canvas bags of Doritos from off

the disgruntled guest.

"Sheesh!" the unbagged Ute exclaimed in some irritation. "Somebody better come out

and play with the Pittsburgher or none of us will be safe!!!" (My attempt to get others to

add to the story.)

It was true. The words Ute spoke. Very true. For, in the very next instant, Andrea ran

lickety split down the entire length of the golden barge, chased closely by a giant Fuegan

bee. She whipped wildly at it with Venetian blind cords, but the giant bee only grinned

and flew faster. How was the Londoner to know that Fuegan bees have a passion for

Venetian blind cords? How, indeed? There was no escape for Andrea but to leap blindly

over the rail and into the rushing cataract!!!
 

A gallant "someone" leapt instantly after her. He was bald...not bald like a bald eagle is

bald with white feathers all over its head...but really, really BALD bald! A knife was

clenched in his teeth. A knife? Why did the strange bald guy need a knife to save Andrea

from the cataracts? It was because....

Part...2..by Diz

He had noticed that the Venetian blind cords had wrapped around Andrea's ankles and

she was in no position to free herself. He swam strongly after her, watched from the poop

deck by The Dizzy, captain of the vessel. She had been distracted for a moment from her discussions with her handsome Horsemaster, whose skills she hoped would help her in

the forthcoming seahorse racing meet. He was explaining the need to capture the Silver Seahorse, a famed creature whose speed and beauty were unmatched.

"I'll catch the silver devil" the Horsemaster cried striding away from the Dizzy towards.....
 

Part 3: Jo

....the Welsh bastard deckhand who always wore the inner tube about his neck. Egan 

would know no rest until the Silver Seahorse were captured and placed as the centerpiece

on the hors d'oeuvre sidebar at Lucilla's party. Lucilla had had Amanda laboring in the

back reaches of the kitchen all day, painstakingly applying gold plate to the 11,000 snail

shells that were to be glued to the wall in delicate floral patterns above the sidebar. Lucilla, Queen of all things Fuegan, was, you see, somewhat of a perfectionista. It had been, indeed,

she who had instructed her doorman, East, in the finer uses of the whip. Egan bit his lip as

he stood near the rail, holding the yellow and orange striped innertube, waiting for the

Bald One's head to break the surface of the cataract....hopefully with an unvenetiancord-

bound Andrea in tow. He was not worried about Andrea. He remembered well how she

had survived those long months barefoot among the yakpeople of the northernmost reaches

of the frozen wastelands of Mexico City. She was a survivor, that one! The Bald One had

taught his woman well.

No, he bit his lip as he meditated on the fate that awaited him were he to fail in his task of catching the elusive, non-existent (which REALLY made it elusive!) Silver Seahorse. Turning

his head slightly, he studied Captain Dizzy as she stood there on her slanted Scottish poop

deck. Would she be able to protect his... honor...from an enraged Lucilla? He thought of

the over-used  chains  hanging from the  clammy stone walls of the  dungeon under her

hacienda. An involuntary shudder shook his sturdy frame, causing his armpit hairs to curl.

Dizzy smiled at him encouragingly. He liked the way that only every other one of her teeth

were missing. The battles that woman had been in! She was a marvel of capable womanhood! There was not a Scottish highlander, lowlander, or even middle-lander who was better with

the claymore (or even the clayless) than she! Egan knew her talents and abilities would stand them all in good stead at Lucilla's Party.

Part 4: Jo (sorry, here at the beginning there were a lot of very short paragraphs that

didn't really fit and so are not all included)

Meanwhile, higher up in the Fuegan estate, the valiant Jack laboriously climbed....and

climbed. Only a few thousand more yards to go and he would be there...there on the ledge between the condor nests... there where his Jo awaited, eating bananas and playing with

her pet aardvark. There was little to do, you see, at the H.M.S. Home when the seagulls

were gone. Watching Audrey twirl endless hour after endless hour atop her milking stool

while she sang haunting off-Broadway tunes from 1942...well, the pleasure inherent in that

just did fade after 2 or 3 weeks.
   

Taking her last bite of banana and throwing the peeling artfully at the base of the milking

stool, Jo rose and walked alone in her long gossamer gown to the carved railing that over-

looked the vast chasm that split Lucilla's Fuegan estate into two unequal parts. The smell

of sea salt reached her nostrils. Jack! It must be Jack! Only HIS golden hair smelled so

strongly of the ocean currents wherein he swam  in the glorious suit of his birth.    

She sighed. Yes....Jack. He was coming! Soon her entrapment would be over and she would

be free! Free to attend the party. With her Jack. She closed her eyes, picturing the gala

event. Lucilla would probably wear her golden gauze dress with the tiny pompoms. Doubtless there would be music. Would TOFOG actually be there? Jo had promised NOT to wear

fringe and patent leather. Surely they would come. The lead singer reminded her oftimes of

her own Jack. But why?
  

Her reverie was broken by the arrival of her trained homing crowe. Quickly she broke open

the large capsule attached to its left leg with embroidery thread. It was from Juditha!!!  She

was in trouble! Oh, no! Jo looked wildly about the balcony. She must go to Juditha! But how?
 

Part 5: Jo

Juditha had written in desperation that Lucilla had chained her to the mucking fork in the guest-horse stalls. Jo was somewhat relieved to know that, at least, Juditha was not spending long hours sitting in the cinders any more. But, nevertheless, all was not fair in the world of Maximus-possession when a protagonist was de-pooping far below the scene of the action.
  

Jo leaned out over the railing as far as she could without losing her balance. Ah! Jack was

not far below now! Turning her head, she studied the 3 mile-long, ancient, frayed, wildly-swinging, board-rotted rope bridge that led from the H.M.S. Home to the ledge where

Lucilla's hacienda lay on the far side of the world...er...chasm.
 

With Jack at her side, she was tempted to attempt it. These ice-encrusted sheer mountains

had earned their names as THE TOWERS OF PAIN!!! Lucilla had chosen well the location

of her lair...er...home. Then there were those two top spurs of the mountain that rose up

like horns, curving over the top of the sprawling mansion. (It was all Lucilla's fault for

having sent Jo a picture of the Torres del Paine.)

(Note: These are the actual Torres del Paine near the Straits of Magellan in Tierra del Fuego.  The HMS Home is, um, atop the tower

on the right, while Lucilla's hacienda is atop the taller one on the left.)

Jo shuddered as the wind grew stronger, making the rope bridge flip completely over from

time to time. The giant mound of skeletons at the bottom of the chasm under the bridge was, alas, not comforting, either. Narrowing her eyes, she could make out the tiny form of the

distant golden barge, now moored at the base of Lucilla's mountain. The gentlemen in tuxes

DID rather resemble penguins at this distance.
 

No...wait! Those WERE penguins! But...why were they armed? Oh, well...she had more

pressing matters to attend to at the moment. A mental image of poor Juditha, up to her

kneecaps in, well, you know... spurred her to call down to her captain, "Hurry, Jack,

hurry! Now that you have spent the last week climbing up this nail-embedded, glass-like

cliff, we need to get across the upsidedown, rotting, 3-mile-long frayed rope bridge to the OTHER Tower of Pain!"
  

Jack frowned. Now WHY would he do that, Jo wondered. But soon he was over the railing

and in her arms and she buried her nose happily in his sea salt-smelling hair, pausing only

 long enough to flip aside several pesky octopus tentacles that were entangled in it. Such

was life when one loved a sailor!
  

After 72 minutes of wild kissing, Jack stood quietly, holding her upturned face between his

two large hands. "Now, my Jo, what was it you were shouting down to me?"
   

"The bridge...the bridge...we must cross the wildly-swinging, quickly-disintegrating rope

bridge that leads from one Tower of Pain to the other across the Chasm of Doom in order

to save Juditha from the ...er...horse poo...and then attend Lucilla's gala party. You see,"

she continued most earnestly, "there are 1531 guests waiting impatiently for this party to

get the heck started and Andrea is STILL wrapped snuggly in her seaweed cloak and Diz's

deck is slanting so terribly that only Egan's firm grip is enabling her to keep standing at

all, and...well... we really, really NEED to get to the far side of the world...er... chasm." Jo

didn't know why that phrase kept sticking in her brain when she looked at her captain.
   

Gazing quickly behind her, Jo noticed Audrey had acquired some burly company on her

milking stool and had updated her singing to tunes of the 1950's. She would let Audrey

wend her own way to Lucilla's party...that is if the liberrian were still to find it interesting,

given her current occupation.

Taking her captain's left hand in her right, Jo and Jack climbed over the railing and took

their first tentative step out onto the rope bridge. The vulture perched just to one side

suddenly grinned.

Part 6: Lucilla

Meanwhile back at the barns,  Juditha was not paying proper attention to her mucking

duties. It seems that Cort had arrived in the stalls and his presence was proving to be

mighty distracting.  Still,  she only had one main thought occupying her...how to wrest

Maximus away from Lucilla. Another part of Juditha's duties required her to maintain

the rope bridge over the Chasm of Doom. She'd fixed the bridge all right, but not for the best........
 

Part 7: Jo

It was that aging shoelace that worried Juditha the most. Why, oh, why had she used it to

attach the end of the bridge to the rusty post? Straining her long chain as far as it would go,

she peeked wearily out the opening of the last of the 456 stalls she had mucked that day.

Three miles away, through the mist, she could see Jack and Jo struggling to hold on. Thank goodness Jo was with Jack, she thought! All his years in the ratlines and rigging of monsoon-tossed ships would certainly pay off NOW! She was not worried! No! Not in the least! Give

them a good 30 seconds and they would make it safely across...even if the bridge were

sideways and covered with wet moss infested with mutant fire ants. No problem!
 

She turned her attentions elsewhere. Cort stood there in the shadows of the 456th stall,

eyeing her chain. She knew Lucilla had sent him deliberately to distract her from her

Maximus thoughts. He did look remarkably like her Maximus, only a few years younger

and with more hair. She admitted a certain attraction to him, but it was the more mature,

more commanding Maximus that had claim to her heart. Besides, Grecian Mary was even

now donning her Stetson and six-guns as she readied herself to accompany him to the party. 

As was Paula G.  The plot would get terribly tangled, Juditha knew! Terribly!
 

Juditha studied the  seagreen eyes looking so  soulfully at her chain.  She saw memories

swirling in their depths. Suddenly, as though waking from a long trance, Cort shook his

head, strode across the now-gleaming-so-white-you-could-eat-off-the-floor stall, grabbed

the mucking rake from the surprised Juditha's immaculately-groomed for a stallmucker's

hand, and in one swift motion, used it to break her chain. He held out a strong arm, the

wrist badly scarred from manacles, and a slow smile spread across his handsome, though

dusty, face.

"Come!" was all he said. How like Maximus' voice, Juditha mused, as without a backward glance she followed him out of the stall and up the two inch wide goat trail that led through

the cactus and scaled the looming  side of the tallest of the Towers of Pain. Juditha grinned. Would Lucilla ever be surprised!! Heh! Heh!
  

Meanwhile, back on the golden barge, Egan and Arthur had grabbed Andrea by...various places...and had hauled her back aboard. Hando managed to kill the giant squid attempting

to eat his left knee and climb aboard by himself.  The two of them lay there in a seaweed-wrapped, gasping heap as Cap'n Dizzy slid down the deck to make sure they had not been

overly disassembled.  Arthur was trembling. How near he had come to losing the one true, though unspoken, love of his life!  What he would not give were Andrea to be his companion

for the gala at Lucilla's hacienda!  It was...a dream he had.
   

Lucilla herself was walking rapidly through her mile-long hacienda, checking that the

last details for the party were attended to.  She fluffed the pile of ostrich-plume fans as

she passed, straightened some strands in the glittering bead curtains, tossed a breadcrumb

to the trained chipmunks,  flicked a cooled lava flake from the purple fainting couch, and continued on into the first of her 35 bathrooms to make sure the hot tubs were all filled

with warm champagne. It was time for her to dress. She was having SUCH a hard time

choosing her gown! Would it be that golden gauze one with the teensy pompoms or not?

Mayhap she would choose the red net one with the goldfish design? Or perhaps the velvet

one of midnight blue...the one that had taken the 3 tribes of native Fuegans 17 years to

attach the diamonds to in that clever pattern of every known constellation? Decisions!

Decisions! But...before she could decide...the massive front door of her hacienda was

thrown open and in strode....

Part 8...by Judy

...could it BE?..... MAXIMUS! He LOOKED like Maximus... tho his hair was a bit longer. Beneath the familiar breastplate, Lucilla noticed .... a holster? Strange, she thought ...

Maximus had never had a holster before. But he stood there, saying, "My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius ... husband to a ...."

"YES!!! ....  YES!!! Lucilla squealed. (Although the speech seemed almost robot-like.) 

"Come in!  Come in!  I've been waiting for you, my dearest General."
 

If only Lucilla's rapidly-beating heart had not drowned out the sound of Juditha's steed galloping away . Juditha's plan,  which had it's conception in the 489th stall, had worked!!
 

Cort was handsome ....but he WASN'T Maximus. And he had this one, terrible weakness

.... raspberry pie. And with that revelation, Juditha had been able to weave her lovely

deception ...  (cackle...cackle...cackle). Given the assurance that if he merely POSED as Maximus and stood at Lucilla's door, he would have his greatest desire satisfied (Lucilla

spent her life dedicated to the baking of raspberry pies in addition to plotting how to

entrap the affections of the General) Cort had but only to continue to convince Lucilla

hat he, indeed, was her own true General. Juditha would have Lucilla exactly where she

wanted her ... as far away from the REAL Maximus as possible!

Part 9...by Jo

Alas, Juditha had not taken into account young Grecian Mary, who, deciding not to wait

for ship, barge, or plane, had swum rapidly from Greece to Tierra del Fuego that afternoon,

and was even now 3/4 of the way up the wobbly rope ladder.  Mary was not from the home

of the Olympics for nothing, you know!!! In far-off Greece she had heard a strange sucking

in of air coming over the south western horizon.

"Oh, NO!" she cried, dropping the chisel with which she was repairing the upper reaches

of the Parthenon, and instantly running to the coast and diving in the blue Aegean. She

had recognized that sound, of course, as Cort's inhalation of the wafting scents of Lucilla's raspberry pie! All during the long afternoon as she had swum through 3 hurricanes,  she

had repeated over and over and over..."No...no...no! Not Cort! Not MY Cort! Not in Lucilla's raspberry clutches!"

It was nearly more than the young teacher could bear! Breaking apart the ice floes with

her bare hands as she neared Fuegan waters,  Mary swam even faster. Once up the last of

the cataracts, Mary stealthily climbed out of the water in the shadow of the golden barge,

totally unseen. She donned her red Stetson, buckled on her brace of pistols, and began the

long climb up the wobbly ladder. She would deal with Paula G later. Right now, it was

Lucilla who stood directly in front of her man, raspberry pie held out enticingly. Had

that woman no shame? No morality at ALL?
  

Arriving at last at the edge of the ledge, Mary stepped into the shadow of a conveniently-

placed wax replica of Barry Manilow.  The massive front door of the hacienda had been

left open by stallmucker escapee Juditha and Mary had a clear view of Cort's back as he

stood there, transfixed by the sight and smell of warmed raspberry pie.

As Juditha's hoofbeats receded in the distance, Mary began to worm her way toward the doorway, gathering a deep coating of Fuegan dust on her person in the process. She smiled

in her adorable Grecian way. Cort would like THAT, he would!  Thoughts of imminent

dust-exchanging in her heart, she quietly and carefully aimed her lasso. With a single,

mighty tug, she yanked Cort backwards out the door and down the curving flight of

marble stairs.

"Ooooooooo," she said softly between clenched teeth as she watched him bounce.
She DID want the man in one piece, after all. Lucilla was so shocked by Cort's sudden disappearance right before her very eyes, that she dropped the raspberry pie with a

splat on the white wool carpeting.

The splatting sound reached Juditha's ears as she galloped. Instantly she reined her steed.

"Oh, NO!" she cried, for she knew the pie splat could mean only one thing! Cort had been

taken and now Lucilla would be looking for the true Maximus! In the gathering twilight, she pulled out the lit lantern she kept in her bodice for such emergencies, waving it in an oblate pattern to signal someone waiting in the deep recesses of the emerald mine at the far end of

the ledge atop the highest Tower of Pain. Would he see it? YES! She got her answer in the

form of a flaming arrow, sent arcing across the evening sky. Her heart pounded in relief.

She readied herself to continue her ride to the emerald mine, when the reins of her horse

were grabbed by a well-built man dressed all in purple. Sid! Juditha's eyes narrowed as

she saw who it was.

Sid merely laughed and said,"....

Part 10...by Jo

"Get off the horse, Juditha!" 

Juditha still sat in her saddle a moment, considering whether to employ the use of the

battleaxe that hung at her belt. But...seeing that Sid had a large piece of plate glass

leaning against a nearby stump, knew that any dismemberment would be only temporary,

so she reluctantly dismounted. It paid to know one's characters well when one was in an

episode, it did, it truly did.
 

Sid swung into the saddle with ease. Hmmmmm?, thought Juditha. Sid has never been on

a horse before. How did he do that so well?
 

Sid, noting the large red question mark that appeared over Juditha's head, smiled his

perfect smile and said, "You must remember, my dear, I have ALL the characters inside

me!"

Juditha frowned there on the ledge in the twilight atop the highest Tower of Pain. She

thought only Russ had ALL the characters inside him. But, then, Sid was not well known

for his regard for the truth.
 

Sid turned the horse and rode back toward Lucilla's hacienda, leaving Juditha still far

from the emerald mine. He did not realize, however, that Juditha had spent her early

years carrying the mail between St. Louis and Denver as the first woman pony express

rider who preferred to run. Soon, only a trail of dust puffs were left to show her route as

she sprinted like a love-sick gazelle toward her heart's desire. Would Maximus still be

waiting in the deep recesses of the emerald mine? Well, if this epi went like most of them

seem to do, he probably would not. And, of course, such was the case.
   

"Maximus! Maximus!" Judith called out anxiously as she arrived at the mine. No deep

rumbling answer reached her waiting ears. But there...lying on the floor in a puddle of

blue nanogoo...was the cigarette lighter Maximus always used to set his signal arrows

ablaze.

"SID!" The name escaped her white lips more like a hiss than a word. She should have

known the evil computer chip was up to no good there on the ledge in the twilight atop

the highest of the Towers of Pain!!!  But...but...her General of the Armies of the North

had not been with Sid when he had grabbed the reins of her horse a short while ago.

What had happened to her gladiator?? What? What, indeed?
   

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...er...hacienda.... Mary had unlassoed the slightly bruised

Cort as he lay in the dust at the foot of the curving marble staircase.

"Mary!" he said in soft wonderment. "I thought you were repairing the upper portions

of the Parthenon and wouldn't make it in time for the party."
 

"Ah, " she replied as she leaned over his prostrate form, her hair brushing lightly across

his dusty cheek. "Did you not know that nothing...not even revered ancient Greek historical icons...could keep me from your side?"
 

Cort, actually, had NOT known that and had promised Paula G that he would accompany

her to the party. As the plot thickened on the front driveway,  the scene moved back down

to the golden barge, moored  now on the River of Pain that ran whooshingly between the

two tallest of the Towers of Pain. Why, one wonders, was there so much pain in Fuego?

It must be because there were way, way more CroweWomen than characters. That was definitely one possibility. But, alas, not the only one.
 

Arthur leaned over, gently unwinding a large piece of brown, rubbery seaweed from

around Andrea's thigh. This action, however, was interrupted by a deep, menacing

rumble coming from a very nearby and highly decorated throat. "Feeling brave, are

you, Welshboy?" 

Hando sat there in his strangely still immaculately white tight white jeans (tight white

pants never get smudged, you know), wiping the last remnants of pulverized squid from

his knee.

Captain Dizzy quickly grabbed her oarsman by the back of his collar, pulling him from

harm's way. She was very protective of her crew. Even the Welsh ones. "Not today, Hando,

 not today," Dizzy said in her sternest captain's voice. "There will be NO Welsh blood

staining my slanted deck today." 

Hando lowered his long-lashed lids to half mast and the setting sun twinkled briefly on his

left canine tooth as he smiled. So far, in his experience, there was usually a tomorrow.
   

Our camera now pans over to the gangplank where several of the party guests were, at long

last, getting their own chance to depart for the party at the hacienda. Terry was using his equipment to help two ladies ascend the wobbly rope ladder. Amanda and Annette (the

A-list of Terry's heart, you see, as annsmac was not in Fuego at this time) were most grateful

for the assistance as the rope ladder was not only wet and covered with sharp coral, but

was quite, quite lengthy.

BugPugMom stood at the base of the tallest of the Towers of Pain. Her heart was torn.

She wanted to be on the ledge, dancing the night away with her BiebeBaby, but the thought

of the ladder ascent was more than she could bear. Suddenly there was a rumbly shout from

the edge of the ledge and a...a... a...yes...it was...it really, really WAS...oh, NO.... a BASKET

 was lowered on a long rope.

BugPugMom gasped in disbelief! How could this be happening to her AGAIN??? (She had recently  been T oto in  NeverNever Oz  and spent most of her days  tucked  tightly in

Bertothy's tiny basket.) Moaning, she sank to her knees in despair.

This is appropriate, you will note, as she WAS on the bank of the River of Pain and at the

base of the Tower of Pain. A little moaning despair fit right in, it did, it did! But it was Biebe

on the other end of the rope. And she trusted Biebe much more than she would ever trust

anyone who would actually write an epi, now didn't she??? And, besides, this basket was

large and lined with swan's feathers and had champagne cup holders and a fine stereo

system. It wasn't at ALL like the tiny basket with the lid that she had found herself stuffed

so unceremoniously inside back in NeverNeverOz. So, gathering her courage, she stepped

inside and Biebe began pulling her up the sheer, ice-encrusted side of the tallest of the

Towers of Pain. Why, she passed floatingly right by Terry and his two A-women. This was

not so bad, she thought, just as she heard the sound of snapping ropes about 4 feet above

her head.
 

Part 11...by Jo

Whoooosh! Down the swan-feather-lined basket fell toward the jagged points of the ice stalagmites clustered at the base of the wobbly rope ladder. Let's see. What sort of mood

did the epi writer find herself in? Hmmmmm? Well.....Terry WAS right there as she fell, shrieking, toward him on the cliffside, now wasn't he? And was our Terry, wont as he was

to rescue folk, about to let her be impaled somewhat painfully upon ice stalagmites? Well...

was he? Nah! Tucking Amanda under one armpit and Annette under the other, Terry

extended his equipment at exactly the right second to terminate (strange choice of wording, there) BugPug's descent.

This left our Terry in a position greatly reminiscent of the ascent up the sheer cliff in The Princess Bride. It was a good thing that our Terrence had arms as massive as tree trunks!

Not to mention the finely honed quality of his equipment. Holding onto the 3 women,

Terry continued on up the remaining yards of wobbly rope ladder using his teeth and

toes.
   

Meanwhile, back on the sideways, frayed, fireant-infested 3-mile-long rope bridge high

above the River of Doom, Jack was easily and lightly hopping along, Jo perched daintily

on his shoulder. Arriving at stall number 456 only to discover Juditha's broken chain lying

on the immaculate floor, they, too, quickly darted up the 2" wide path that scaled the rest

of the tallest of the Towers of Pain.

"What do you think happened to Juditha," Jo asked as they ascended rapidly past the multitudinous nests of the Fuegan crested cara cara birds. (I kid you not...those are the

birds that live in Tierra del Fuego!)

Jack glanced far below at Last Hope Inlet, where Lachlan was landing his somewhat

crowded teensy plane, loaded with stacked European CroweWomen. Too bad, he thought,

that the runway there was only 5 feet long and in the middle of the grazing lands of the

giant herd of guanacos, the wild cameloids of Fuego.  

                                                
But Lachlan was an excellent pilot and made a perfect seven-point landing in the center

of the herd. This, of course, meant that his 3 wheels, the tips of both wings, the top of the

rudder, and his windshield all touched the ground at the same time. Not just ANY pilot

could accomplish THAT, Lachlan thought, as he lay in the tall grass on his back, 7 or 8 CroweWomen sprawled across him.

Rose was the first to gain her feet. Straightening her rumpled skirt, she glared up the

tallest of the Towers of Pain at Jo scampering along the goat trail with Jack. "Humph!"

she humphed in a really cute French accent. "Keeping Jack all to herself! If only she had

let him skipper us across on his vessel! But nooooo!" Then she caught sight of Biebe atop

 the ledge, holding the end of a snapped rope and forgot all about Jo. Ah! Puck-man

himself! Gathering up her belongings, she headed for the base of the sheer cliff.

Susan Guildford also rose and followed Rose. (Did that deliberately...the roses, I mean!)

She was keeping her eyes peeled. The left one looked for young Johnny and the right one

for Zack. Distracted momentarily by a clump of rare blue poppies, she knelt by one, gazed tenderly at it a long moment for reasons best known to herself, then up the cliff at Jo.

If only...she thought... if only.

Ute went in search of Jeffrey. Sarah was there, checking Lachlan's body parts for damage. Lachlan was fine, despite several attractive rips in his uniform, and he headed for the

poppies, intending to pick a bouquet to give Sarah.

Susan shrieked, "Don't TOUCH the poppies!" She continued to growl softly as Lachlan

backed away. No one but Jo knew what trials she had been through trying to grow them

back in England. She and Jo were charter members of the Dead Blue Poppy Society.

Suddenly trumpets played a loud fanfare. Everyone's head turned to see the cause. It was

Sue the Formerly Sometimes Vile. She was inflating her pocket helicopter and smoke was steaming out of her ears. The heat waves rising from her head were so hot that various and sundry mirages appeared. The rest of the Europeans shuddered. What lay in store for

Grecian Mary and Paula G now that SUE was in Fuegan grass space? No wonder the

trumpets blared!!!
 

When all the Europeans had safely deplaned...or, in this case, deLachlaned, the scene

switched back to the golden barge where Juditha had arrived, her pockets full of emeralds

and a nanogoo-covered cigarette lighter. There was...something...about the presence of the

barge that prickled at the back of Juditha's thoughts. What WAS it? Why the Cleopatra

thingy on Lucilla's part? Was there some reason beyond personal vanity? Was it all part

of some vast plot? WAS there a plot?
 

Suddenly a loud *click* clicked in Juditha's brainpan. "Was it the clock?" Cort, up on the ledge, asked Grecian Mary?

"No," Mary replied with the recognition the brain of the teacher of small children has for

 the brain of another. "It was just one of Juditha's synapses, that's all."
 

A giant light bulb appeared in the air above Juditha's head. She, you see, was very open

with her thoughts and feelings, hence the large red question mark and now the light bulb.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Of course!!! Barge! Nile! Queens! ...what did that all

lead to but...but... Roman soldiers!!!! Why had Cleopatra taken her giant barge to Actium

but to impress Anthony? Why had Lucilla brought her golden barge up the River of Pain

 but to impress the General of the Armies of the North!!!!

Oh, YES!!! Juditha understood it ALL now!!! She crept silently up a slender oar, gaining entrance to the grand bathing hall. A bubble-covered man was in the large pool. A cigar

and cell phone floated nearby. A CroweWoman tucked herself behind the man's back, not

to be seen. Juditha smiled. Did she not know her characters well enough to discern Steve

and Leah?

Leaving them to their ablutions, Juditha continued down the passageway. An especially

sturdy door caught her eye. It was locked with bolts and chains and bars and padlocks and

all such. She paused. She sniffed the air. A definite scent of ripe wheat and wet wolf fur

came to her. She smiled. She had found him! As she studied the locks, a form appeared at

the far end of the passageway. It was.....

Part 12...by Jo

....alas...Sid again. Would the chip-man NEVER leave off tormenting her?

He smiled and said something she could not understand, never having had the time to learn

the native Tehuelche language. His smile grew wider. How DARE the chip look so much

 like her Maximus at times!!

"If," Sid continued, "you knew all the known languages of the world, as I, in my perfection, do...you would know that in Tehuelche the correct translation of the Torres del Paine is

NOT the Towers of Pain...but the BLUE Towers!"

Still smiling, he took several steps in her direction. "They are, you see, where my interior

blue nanogoo is mined, and are the source of all my strength and all my great perfectness."

Taking Juditha by the wrist, he pulled her down the passageway to the room beyond the

one she had figured Maximus was being kept prisoner in, pushed her inside and locked

the door. Juditha could hear his receding footsteps and evil laughter as he went toward

the grand bathing hall. Turning toward the wall that separated the two rooms, Juditha

began pounding on it, shouting "Maximus! Maximus! Can you hear me, my darling?"
     

Meanwhile, having reached the top of the highest of the Towers of Pain (Sid was correct,

but we shall still refer to them in this manner), Jack and Jo ran quickly to the emerald

mine in search of Juditha (her present situation being as yet unknown to them). Quickly

Jo pulled the silver flashlight charm off her bracelet, pushed the button that enlarged it

to full size, and lit up the interior of the mine entrance.

She gasped! It was a fake! It was NOT an emerald mine at ALL! A few emeralds had been carefully planted around the entrance to give the false impression that it was, but in the

brilliant beam of her flashlight, Jo and Jack clearly saw the burbling river of blue nanogoo

deep down in its far recesses.

Jo, her eyes wide, turned to Jack. "This does not bode well for the plot, does it, my

Captain?"

Indeed, what had begun as a simple gathering of CroweWomen at Lucilla's residence

was rapidly becoming more and more like Lara Croft meets Indiana Jones and the League

of Extraordinary X-men Hulks at the Temple of Terminators.

Jack decided they should go to Lucilla's hacienda and enter there without being seen.

Leaping into the driverless rickshaw pulled by two guanacos that just happened to be

passing the entrance of the faux emerald mine at the moment, they arrived quickly at

the hacienda. Hiding behind a large cage of Patagonian gray foxes (what possible use did

Lucilla have planned for THOSE?), Jack studied the exterior of the enormous hacienda

with an expert eye.

"There!" he said, pointing at a tall tower on the back side of the building. "It is far from

the main entrance and totally covered in bright red ivy."

He pulled two thin, bright red folding capes from his breast pocket, handing one to Jo.

"Here, wrap yourself in this and we will blend completely in with the ivy." It was amazing,

was it not, that they always had exactly what they needed?

Jack started climbing, showing Jo  what to take  hold of and where.  Hmmm?  Should I

actually LEAVE that phrase in the epi or not? Oh, well! Too late now, I guess! There was

a tall, narrow window just under the pointed green roof. Jack grasped its sill, peering

through the diamond-paned glass. Empty! It opened easily at his touch, and he climbed

through, then helped Jo into the round chamber. The walls were bare stone, though

several leopard skin rugs (how very unPC!!) hung here and there on them. The floor

was covered in a 12" thick layer of pink sponge. Just what DID Lucilla use this chamber

for anyway???

Flinging off their red capes, they headed in a rather bouncy fashion toward the door. It

had been left halfway open and, together, they studied what lay beyond. Spiral steps led

down to the main part of the hacienda. Cautiously they descended, Jack's hand resting on

the hilt of his cutlass.

Loud sounds, alternating with muffled laughter, emanated from an alcove nearby. Violet

petals and wet noodles littered the floor both inside the alcove and in the wide hallway

just beyond. Jack and Jo exchanged puzzled glances, then Jo suddenly made the connection.

"Audrey!" she whispered in Jack's ear. "It HAS to be the liberrian! Just before you

arrived at the H.M.S. Home, she had spent some time in the kitchen, boiling pot after pot

after potof noodles. And every time I would pass her room, the scent of violets was so

strong it almost knocked me down."

A deep rumbling laugh came next from the alcove...a laugh that turned into a silly,

drawn-out mooo sound. What WAS Audrey UP to??? Then Jo heard the paste-wouldn't-

melt-in-her-mouth tones of the liberrian herself. "Oh, Buuuuuuud!" she laughed. "On

the milking stool? REALLY?" More wild laughter! More deep rumbly moooooooo's

were heard.

Jo looked at Jack. "The woman never DID have any sense of propriety," she huffed.

"But," Jack asked, with a bit too much interest to suit Jo, "what does she do with the

violet petals?"

Jo frowned. "Don't ask!" was all she would say. Grabbing Jack by his left epaulette, she

headed off down the hall.
     

Out in the front driveway, Cort had finally gotten to his feet....just as the whirring sound

of a fully-inflated, pocket helicopter filled the air behind him and Grecian Mary. My

Heavens! Was it going to make a strafing run on the driveway? Had England declared

war on Greece? But the black helicopter landed in a cloud of...natch...dust.

Stepping out from behind the controls was a sight to behold. It was  the SUE! Mary

gasped. Never had she beheld such a sight! Sue was poured into the tightest black leather

pants one could imagine. Her black leather boots with silver studs in the pattern of

lightning bolts came up past mid-calf. Her black leather bustier covered a chest heaving

with pent-up emotions. Her black leather Stetson was tipped rakishly over one intense

eye. Her black leather gloves with the long black leather fringe blowing in the downdraft

from the still-twirling helicopter rotor blades rested menacingly upon two large pistols

in their black leather holsters. Her bright red lips were pressed together in a firm line.

A black leather whip was coiled at one hip. Black leather cartridge belts crisscrossed

her torso.

Spitting a large wad of tobacco into the dust, Sue took one step forward, a slow smile

beginning to tug at one corner of her scarlet lips. Mary, raised amongst happy grape-

growers, had only a small pair of pruning shears in her pocket. She gulped in shock

and awe. Just then Paula G and Lise opened the front door of the hacienda.
 

"Run, Mary!" they cried. Mary knew they were right. Perhaps the 3 of them could devise

some plan together. Clearly they were out-gunned in the present moment. Followed by

Sue's eyes, Mary dashed into the hacienda and the door was slammed behind her.

Sue lowered her eyelashes to half mast as her slow smile spread more widely. She pushed

the remote on her helicopter key and the rotors stopped. She looked at Cort. It had been

a long, long time. Too long. Way too long.
     

Meanwhile....

Part 13... by Lucilla

Meanwhile Lucilla had finished baking her special pie for Jo. If all went according to

plan she would have Captain Jack to herself. All along she had this secret hankering for

Jack, but Jo must not learn of her desire. To run her hands through Jack's blond mass,

to touch that large mast, such a beautiful vessel. Maybe later a tour of the islands aboard

his ship. Lucky for her Jo was going through all kinds of trouble just to bring Captain

Jack to her...hehe.

Outside she could hear someone barking orders, and...where were those caterers? Good

help was so hard to find...but Juditha did clean 496 stalls till they were gleaming enough

to eat off of. Which reminded her she had not seen Juditha  this morning. What was she

up to?

Part 14  by Sue

While Lucilla plotted to steal Jack and Juditha did goodness or maybe badness knows what,

Sue decided it was time to get her beloved Cort far, far away from the man stealers Mary

and Paula. But try as she might Cort wouldn't get into the pocket helicopter with her.

With a loud sigh she said, "But Cort why not???"

"Darlin, you're way too clean.  I ain't goin' anywhere 'til we get you all dusted up ag'in."

With that he caught hold of her and dusted up a storm to make up for all the missing

months.

Now quite breathless and dusty Sue and Cort made good their escape and flew off to.....

Meanwhile, just what was Juditha up to????

Part 15...by Jo
 

Now WHEN, I ask you, in an epi did ANYTHING ever go according to plan?

Lucilla stood there in her vast ceramic kitchen, flour up to her elbows. A satisfied smirk

upon her otherwise lovely face. How very clever she had been in making everyone think

that it was the gladiator who was the object of her lust, when all along she had seasalt in

her veins!

"There!" she exclaimed as she shaped the last bit of extra piecrust into the shape of the

captain's bunk and placed it atop the ...raspberry...pie. "Jo will never be able to resist

it now!!!" 

If anyone had been present to witness her wide grin, they would have sworn there were
Tweety bird feathers sticking out of her mouth. She was THAT pleased with herself.     

Her personal maid had informed her a short while before that Jo and the captain were,

indeed, in the hacienda. Lucilla closed her eyes and sighed. She could almost feel the sea

breezes in her hair and hear the jolly sound of prisoners being flogged. Yes, all would

soon be well in her world. The party had been a well-planned cover to lure the Captain

to her web...er...hacienda. Tonight, she mused, there would be laughter, there would be

song, there would be sparkling conversation and quiet trysts hither and yon. But...most importantly...tonight Jo would eat the...raspberry...pie.

Lucilla glanced impatiently at the clock. She had another 2 hours before the festivities

began. Would she be able to wait that long? Loud sounds from the driveway broke her

reverie. Wiping the flour off her hands and arms with a nearby Jack Russell terrier (she

kept a good supply of the dogs about her hacienda merely because of the name of the

breed), she strode toward the front entrance of her sprawling hacienda. What was

causing all that annoying racket?

Snatching open the large doors, she saw several SUV's with darkened windows parked

in her driveway. A man in a tattered blue and white checked flannel shirt turned and

walked toward her up the steps.

"G'Day," the man said in a delightfully deep Australian accent. "The name's Crowe...

Russell Crowe."
 

Lucilla could not help but smile. He looked SO like Jack, even to the long blond pony tail.

If only he were wearing tight white Napoleonic-era Naval officer pants in stead of those

blue jeans. Oh, well. "Welcome," she said, in a voice modulated by the depth of her secret thoughts.

A slight frown almost made Russell's third eye disappear into a crease as he asked warily,

"And you are SURE that Jo will not be wearing fringe and patent leather tonight?" 

Remembering the...raspberry...pie even now reposing in warm splendor on her butcher's

block, a glint of pleasure sparkled in Lucilla's eye as she replied, "I promised you she

would not. It is quite safe for you and your band to come inside."

Relieved, Russell's face relaxed and he motioned his band members to bring their

equipment up the curving marble steps. The thought of  Jo wearing fringe and patent

leather had been far more unsettling than the process of getting the large SUV's up the

wobbly rope ladder. He had been "Afraid" as they came down the "Full Length of the

River" of Pain, past "All the White Circles" of ice formation that "The Same Person",

this Jo, would not have heeded the instructions of "What's Her Name?", their hostess, 

and he would have to resort to "Other Ways of Speaking" and look "Inside Her Eyes"

as he could "Never Be Alone Again" with Jo were she so attired ever since that day back

in Coffs Harbour with all the "Farm Noises" and that "Painted Veil" situation wherein

he had attempted to present her with his plumed helmet from Gladiator and her fringe
and patent leather, he remembered, had almost caused him to "Swallow My Gift"...which

would have certainly caused him a great deal of throat distress, changing his whole musical

style to more of a "Mission Beat" sound, more suited to singing "Folsom Prison Blues"

like that Mr. Cash person.  (Did I get ALL of them in ONE sentence...did I...did I???)
    

Meanwhile, Sue's inflatable helicopter was beginning its descent to the landing strip in

the guanaco grazing land. Sue had gotten some dust bunnies in her eyes there atop the

ledge and was having a hard time judging her distance from the ground. "Watch out!"

Cort cried in alarm as.....

Party 16...by Jo

Sue set the helicopter down smack in the middle of the blue poppies. Susan Guildford, who

as yet had not located Zack or Johnny with either of her peeled eyes, was only steps away

at the time. The agonized wailing scream that rent the air could be heard all the way up to

the  ledge atop the tallest of the Towers of Pain.

Stunned, Audrey fell completely off the milking stool. Several soufflés were totally ruined.

Jack turned so quickly that his cutlass scabbard knocked over Lucilla's prize Ming

dynasty spittoon, sending it crashing down the spiral staircase. Jo's hand flew to her

mouth in pained disbelief. "It was only a spittoon," Jack whispered quickly, concerned

at the level of distress his Jo was demonstrating. How could he know that the only other

charter member of the Dead Blue Poppy Society had been instantly able to recognize the

wailing scream as coming from the throat of someone witnessing the horror unspeakable

of blue poppies being crushed beneath a landing inflatable helicopter? Yes, how could

he? He was not only male, but he also spent his life on the sea, where living blue poppies

were much rarer even than in English greenhouses.

"I'll be fine," Jo barely gasped out. "Just give me a minute." After banging her forehead

on the stucco wall several times, she straightened her shoulders, her lips set grimly. "I

would hate to be in the black leather boots with silver studs in a pattern of lightning bolts

of the person who just did THAT in front of Susan Guildford!"
   

Indeed, that very Susan was even now turning toward the inflatable helicopter, gripping

in her white-knuckled hands the large, pointed garden trowel she always carried in a

velvet pouch about her neck. Cort's eyes grew wide. Never had he seen such a look of

righteous retribution gleaming in someone's eyes.
  

Meanwhile, Terry had managed to finish his tooth and toe climb up the wet wobbly rope

ladder and had deposited his 3 ladies safely. BugPug ran into Biebe's arms, swan feathers

still stuck fetchingly here and there about her person. She never noticed Sally, standing

nearby, her thumb rubbing softly back and forth over a puck concealed in her pocket, a determined light shining in her eye. Nor did she note French Rose, just beginning her

ascent of the rope ladder, a hockey stick clenched in her teeth and an equally determined

light in her own eyes.
   

On the deck of the golden barge, moored below in the River of Pain, Andrea had been,

at last, unseaweeded, except for a few pesky strands stuck firmly between her toes. Her

eyes traveled upward toward the goat trail. Hando snorted, "Think I don't know you

are looking for that old sea captain feller? Do ya think I don't KNOW??" Well, Andrea

had hoped he didn't...but, alas, she had broadcast her treachery upon an open list and

Hando had clearly found her out. Arthur only smiled quietly. Perhaps there was hope f

or him yet...if the skinhead didn't kill the Welshwoman first, that was.
   

Below decks, Steve and Leah had dried themselves with warm, scented towels and were

deciding what to wear to the gala that evening. Sid had disappeared. One wonders, one

does, just where and with whom he would appear once again. Rumors had been circulating

all afternoon through the air conditioning unit, that some woman, singing sea shanties and smelling of cheese, had been seen with him just before he left the barge.
   

In the shallows of the river, not far from the golden barge, Beck stood, surveying the scene before her, not seeming to notice or mind the small chunks of ice floating past her bare legs.

In her capable hands she held a large tin of Crisco shortening. Her eyes followed every

move East made as he tenderly bathed the horses several of the guests had ridden in upon

earlier in the day. It being totally unnecessary to spell out just WHY it was that Beck was

so transfixed by this sight as all good CroweWomen will nod in complete understanding

anyway, she had been told that a good greasing kept a body warm in cold waters and she

fully intended to find out the truth of the matter for herself. Very slowly. She was in no

hurry. The party was not a pressing matter to her at all. Beck smiled as she took a step

into deeper waters.
   

In her locked room, Juditha had pounded on the wall so long and so hard with her shoe,

that a small portion of the partition had crumbled, forming a tiny hole. Pressing her eye

to the opening, Juditha peered into the adjoining chamber. She gasped, dropped the shoe,

took several steps backwards and sat down hard on the bunk. How could that BE? How

could...
 

Party 17...by Jo

...the pocked gateway to Elysium be in that room? Where was Maximus? Had he gone

through the gate yet once more? In stunned disbelief, Juditha staggered back to the tiny

hole, her heart needing to see the terrible sight once again. She placed her palm on the

partition beside the hole to steady her trembling legs and was shocked to find that it went

right through the wall. (Ah, HA! Just when you thought the so-called "plot" couldn't GET

any stranger!!!) She pulled her hand back in wonderment, then tested the wall's lack of

solidity several more times. Concern over the whereabouts of her General of the Armies

of the North (who, actually, you know has yet to appear in person in any of the epis so far)

giving her already stout heart even more courage, she took a deep breath and walked

through the wall.

She stood there in the other chamber for a long while, just staring at the large, foreboding gateway and the huge walls on either side of it. She had not realized Lucilla's barge was

big enough to contain such a thing. (It was not, of course.) Would, she wondered, there be

poplar trees, black soil, and the smell of figs on the other side were she to venture through? Would Maximus be there? It was just all TOO strange finding the gateway like this and in

such a place...especially when Sid himself had been the one who locked her in the room.

She frowned. SID! Yes, this was all probably just one of his illusions...some computer

program he had come up with to torment her and Maximus! Why, she doubted the gate

was even solid...even really there at all! As she reached her hand toward it, fully expecting

to encounter only air, she gasped as her fingers touched rough...and quite solid...wood. She narrowed her eyes (there is a lot of eye-narrowing in epis), wondering what mischief Sid

had wrought. As the doors to both chambers were still locked, there seemed left no choice

but to push open the gateway. After all, she thought, if Maximus HAD been locked in this

 very chamber, he, too, must have gone through the gateway. Right?
 

Pressing her lips tightly together in determination, the intrepid woman gave the gateway

a firm shove. It swung wide on its massive iron hinges and she stepped within. Where was

she NOW? Except for a faint glow in the distance, it was dark. She heard a faint burbling

sound in that direction and walked cautiously toward it. Her eyes widened (there is also a

lot of eye-widening in epis) as she saw the large river of slow-flowing molten blue nanogoo.

At last she understood that Lucilla's entire Fuegan estate was set atop a cavern of the icky

blue stuff, with tributaries of it leading up the cores of both of the Towers of Pain. With

THIS much blue nanogoo, Sid had to be thinking of total world domination. Even Illinois.

Following a narrow path alongside the blue river, she clenched her teeth in anger. She

MUST find Maximus and STOP this foul computer chip. Why, if he took over Illinois, the TOFOG concert would be in grave danger!
    

Juditha, you see, had not yet been to the hacienda and had no way of knowing that Jo had promised not to wear fringe and patent leather, so Russell had moved the venue of the

concert from Chicago to Lucilla's party. Shannon, however, was WELL aware of that fact,

and at that very moment was putting the finishing touches to her outfit and preparing to

greet the lead singer himself. Yes, she had chosen carefully and well. She twirled in front

of the mirror, studying her ankle-length gown of blue and white checked flannel. She

decided there were not QUITE enough holes and tattered places in it yet. Carefully ripping

out a patch over her knee with her teeth, she checked in the mirror again and grinned in complete satisfaction. Spraying on some eau d'Angus, folding a map of Nana Glen into a

fan and tucking a guitar under her arm, she headed for the door.
   

Meanwhile, the Countess herself had arrived at the hacienda. Leaving her golf bag in the

front hall, she surveyed the scene. Noting the grey fedora on the brass hat rack, Pat smiled.

Yes, the jet ski trip from St. Andrew's golf course would be well worth it.

The front door opened and Terry entered, Amanda's arm crooked through his left and

Annette's arm crooked through his right. Pat saw that the K&R expert had gotten a cut

on his eyebrow from a swan quill during the rescue of BugPug. She was actually surprised

that there were not more eyebrow cuts at this stage of episoding.
   

But...where was the hostess? She was not yet in her vast bedroom suite getting dressed.

Where could she be? If one had only known where to look, one would have found her in

the kitchen, baking not only pies for Phyllis and Andrea, but brownies...very, very...er... special.... brownies. The woman had a staff of 17 full-time chefs and 65 kitchen maids.

WHY did she feel she had to bake these items by herself? WHY?
   

On the guanaco plain at the base of the Towers, Susan Guildford raised her sharp trowel, plunging it into the nose of the inflatable helicopter. A loud *WHOOSH* came from the

black vinyl as it quickly collapsed in folds about Sue and Cort. A single blue poppy plant

stuck at an angle out from under the heap. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Susan

dug it out, held the root ball in her gentle hands and walked away across the guanaco

plain murmuring softly, "It's all right. Mommie has you now."

As the black vinyl heap with Sue and Cort inside it writhed on the ground, Mary, Paula G,

and Lise approached it stealthily from behind a large mound of guanaco guano. Exchanging triumphant glances as they advanced, they....

Part 18...by Jo

threw a large net over the heap. You know, the kind you would use the next time you wanted

to catch a few dozen black vultures all at once for banding purposes. I'm sure most of you

have done that very thing at one time or another. Words and semi-words that can not really

be printed here on an open list issued in a steady stream from within the collapsed black

vinyl helicopter. Cort even said, "Golly, gee!" a few times. It was that Sue person who was turning the air blue. And didn't we already have enough epi blue, what with all the poppies

and goo?
 

Indeed, Paula G looked at her cohorts and expounded at some length at the appropriateness

of Sue being within the black vulture net. It would be, she commented with a satisfied giggle, hard to tell one from the other, now wouldn't it. The three women set off across the guanaco grazing lands, dragging the netted helicopter and its occupants behind them. Heaven only

knows what their intentions might turn out to be.
   

Meanwhile, Juditha had followed a branch of the river of molten nanogoo for quite some

time, wending her way ever upwards through the core of the tallest of the Towers of Pain.

Every once in a while she would pause, calling softly and hopefully, "Maximus, are you

there?"

So far, only the sticky burble of the blue goo had been the sound coming to her straining

ears. She sighed, brushing some of the damp cobwebs from her hair. She was tired. Already

she had cleaned 456 stalls that day, climbed the 2" wide goat path with that quiet, yet

beautiful, cowboy; gone to the faux emerald mine, made her way back to the golden barge,

been captured ruthlessly by that Sid fellow, beaten the wall for some hours, and now had trudged and trudged upward in the innards of the Tower. Not to mention the emotional

trauma she had been put through!

She wondered, were she to find her lost Maximus, would she actually be able to dance the

night away? Thoughts of a palanquin built for two, with deep layers of satin quilts, filled

her mind. Ahead, in the illumination from the iridescent blue goo, she noted a small

passageway leading off to her left. The cobwebs there had, she determined, been recently disturbed. She had not written the scripts for CSI Miami for the last decade for nothing! Tiptoeing softly, she followed the twisting passage, coming after some minutes to a metal

door. She tried the handle. It was unlocked! Was it a trap? The scent of ripened wheat and

damp wolf fur made her decision for her.
 

Without further hesitation, Juditha opened the heavy door and stepped into the chamber beyond. She was astonished, to say the least. She found herself in a gleaming white

laboratory, brilliantly lit, but with no windows or doors but the one she had entered

through. Her eyes roamed over computers, vials of strange chemicals, piles of notebooks,

large pieces of equipment she had never seen the like of before.

A low moan came from far to her left and she turned. It was Maximus. Sid had him chained

to the wall!  Were ALL villains so alike?  Were none of them original??  She ran to him,

calling his name over and over.

As he groggily raised his fine head, she saw immediately from the deep purple bruise that

he had been roughly finger-poked in the cheek again. Why WAS it that all the villains were

so set on finger-poking his cheek? Did they find some perverse pleasure in the act? Anger

welled up through her small form. She would have her revenge in this chamber or the next.

She would, indeed!
 

Part 19...by Jo

(I know...I know the revenge thingie is trite, but...well, sometimes tritetitude jest WILL

insert itself here and there against all our better judgment!)

Juditha looked frantically about the laboratory for something to use to unchain Maximus.

Ah, the Goliath, Inc. staple remover should do nicely!

Cradling the heavy staple remover in her arms, she staggered with it across the lab. It

took most of her remaining strength (but, then, what is stronger than the power of a heart

that beats with true love?) and soon she had pulled both the iron loops from the wall and Maximus was free. He sank to his knees and would have completely fallen had she not

slipped her arms under his. ( I will NOT make any remarks about armpits at this delicate moment in Judy's storyline...nope, nope, nope! Let's let our Judy have a tender moment,

OK? Hasn't she earned it?) She knelt in front of him, and he buried his face against her

breast. Resting her cheek on his closely-cropped black hair, she remained silent, letting him listen to the beating of her heart. She felt his strong arms gradually curving around her, pressing her more closely into him.  A shudder went through his form and Juditha asked

softly, "Oh Maximus, what did Sid DO to you, my darling?" 

In answer, all he managed was to let the fingers of his left hand uncurl, dropping several

small computer chips to the floor. Juditha knew that whatever had transpired in this evil laboratory had been unspeakably cruel and twisted. Sid, it seemed, had attempted to computerize her General of the Felix Legions. Had she been in time to save him? Had she prevented any parts replacement? Had he been rewired in any way?
   

Meanwhile (hey, in a plot with this many threads, you're gonna get a LOT of meanwhiles,

ya know!), a desperate knock sounded repeatedly on the door of the hacienda. The Countess, who was still there as she had yet to finish running her fingertip around and around the

edge of the brim of the grey fedora as she indulged in a series of fond reminiscences of

warm days spent in...well... many places...opened the door to find Eryn there, completely

out of breath. "What's the matter?" Pat asked in concern.

"Br...bring...bring bandages!" Eryn managed to gasp out.
 

Quickly ripping the bottom flounce off her skirt, Pat followed Eryn out into the near-

darkness, right to the edge of the ledge at the top of the rope ladder. Colin sat there on the

lawn, staring at his palms. "It was the coral on the wet wobbly rope ladder done him in,

Pat!" Eryn cried.
 

The two women knelt beside Colin, wrapping long white strips torn from the bottom flounce about his bleeding palms, then helping him to his feet. (Is this the hurt/comfort epi?) "Do

you think the thick white bandages on both hands will go all right with my tux?" Colin

asked.
 

Pat, looking him up and down, thought actually that the white bandages with the tux did somewhat better than those sideburns...but she was too polite to say so. Besides, Eryn

thought he looked fine and that was all that truly mattered. Pat noticed that Eryn had a

man's white undershirt partially hanging out of her purse. Eryn just blushed and stammered, "It...it's for...later."
   

Now that darkness was settling over the Fuegan estate, Beck and East, having bathed all

the horses and kept themselves quite warm with applied Crisco, also arrived at the hacienda. They were flushed and giggled uncontrollably from time to time. Shaking her head, Pat

followed them inside. The fedora was gone! Pat's eyes glowed in anticipation. Yes, that was definitely the odor of sausages! And, then, there he was, in his slightly slouchy suit...her

Alex sometimes called Alec, but what the heck he was HERS!
 

Without a word, he swept her up into his arms, remarking mysteriously, "And did you fall

from a dirigible today, my Countess?" She had no idea in the least what he was talking

about, and she didn't care. He carried her off down the hall, his shoes leaving a trail of

tarantula juice on Lucilla's white wool carpet.
   

Lucilla (who really really needed to think about getting dressed for her own party) was

still in her kitchen putting the finishing touches on her pies and brownies when Susan

Guildford entered, blue poppy in hand. "What are you doing here?" Lucilla snapped,

not wanting anyone to see her ingredients.

"Looking for something to plant my slanted, only remaining, blue poppy in," the English-

woman replied with such pathos that even Lucilla's heart was touched enough to hand her

a partially washed measuring cup, not noticing that several drops and splops of ingredients

still clung to its inner surface. Susan innocently took the cup, setting the root ball of her

precious blue poopy...er...poppy, in it. Instantly the poppy began to wilt.
 

Snatching its root ball out of the cup, she glared at her hostess,  "WHAT was IN that

measuring cup?" 

Somewhat flustered and afraid of plot-discovery, Lucilla said, "Oh, THAT cup!! That cup

was NOT the cup I was using to measure the ingredients for the.... raspberry...pies I baked

 for Jo and Andrea and Phyllis, nor even the cup I used to bake the brownies for...well... someone. No, no, not at ALL! I did not put any of my...ingredients into THAT cup!! That

cup must be the cup that one of the maids was using to clean the...er...sink out with...er...

bleach. Yes! THAT must be it!"

Susan wondered why her hostess had broken such a sweat. "Well, then," Susan continued, petting the still-drooping petals of her poppy plant, "may I have another...and cleaner... container?"

Anxious to be rid of the meddling poppyperson, Lucilla tossed her a gold-plated, diamond- encrusted goblet. "Here...take this...and get out...er...er...er...I mean...please leave and let

me finish my...er...preparations for my guests." 

"How rude," Susan thought, taking the goblet and heading for her room up the spiral

stairway, past the broken pieces of the Ming Dynasty spittoon and the wet noodles and

violet petals. "The woman doesn't keep a very neat house, " thought Susan.
   

Shannon, eager to compare blue and white checky patterns, headed down another

passageway just as a tremendous bellow echoed throughout the entire hacienda. Had a

wild bull elephant been invited to the party, she wondered. Were partygoers dropping

water buffalo from the roof?

No, it was Russell bursting through the door of his private suite. His face was bright red

and he flailed his arms as he shouted over and over, "My ponytail! Some #&^%# stole

my PONYTAIL!!!" 

He did, indeed, look quite different from when he had arrived that afternoon. He looked,

she thought, surprised.....somehow... better!

What WAS it? As twelve giant security guards rushed up to him, she stood in a nearby

doorway and listened. It seems he had been napping, tired from the long trip up the River

of Pain and the hoisting of the SUV's up the wobbly rope ladder and all. He had slept very,

very soundly...totally unaware that a ponytail thief lurked behind his curtains with a pair

of sharpened barber scissors and a bottle of dye. Shannon's eyes brightened. That was it!

The "Chestnut Mass" was back! Her loud "Hallelujah!" made all eyes turn in her direction.

She blushed, but could not fully conceal her wide smile.
   

Just then, Jo and Jack...er...turned up from seemingly nowhere. Russell shouted, "Stop,

THIEF!" at Jack, who just stood there, grinning.

"Mate," Jack chuckled, "THIS ponytail is MINE!"

"Well," Russell said, huffing and circling around Jack. "It looks exactly like mine!"

Jo intervened. "Russell," she said reasonably, "if you'll stop your bellowing and just look carefully, you can plainly see that YOUR ponytail was longer than Jack's." 

Still grumping, Russell had to admit that was true.

"And, " Jo added, "your roots were growing out. Why, you weren't even a REAL blonde

at all. Not like Jack." 

Russell, having been so wrapped up in the whole ponytail snatching, hadn't really taken

time to notice with whom he was talking. His seagreen eyes widened (see, more widening

of eyes!) in alarm when it dawned on him it was Jo. He backed off down the passageway a

few steps. "You...you..." he stammered, "you didn't bring fringe or patent leather with

you....did you?"  His hand went involuntarily to his throat where the ache from the

swallowed plumed helmet sometimes still bothered him.

Jo could not resist a somewhat wicked smile as she replied, "And what if I did?" 

Shannon couldn't stand it any longer. Stepping from the doorway, she....
 

Party 20...by Jo

grasped Russ by his arm, inadvertently ripping his elbow hole all the way to his armpit.

"Oh, no! Oh, Russell, I'm so sorry!"

Glad for the distraction from painful helmet-swallowing memories, Russell turned and

flashed her a killer smile. "S'fine," he rumbled, "I was thinking of doin' that myself....shirt

was gettin' a bit too neat-like."
 

Shannon glared at Jo, who still stood there with her wicked smile. "Come with ME,

Russell," Shannon said firmly. "Let's get away from these...these...people!" 

Russell sniffed the air. "Wot's that?" he asked, intrigued. "Is that eau d'Angus you're

wearing, Shannon?"
 

Shannon batted her eyelids, "I thought you'd like it, Russ." She was right and together,

flannels brushing, they went back down the passageway.
   

Jo looked up at Jack. "I'm getting a bit hungry, Jack," she said. "I wonder what treats

Lucilla has planned for the party? I sure hope she's had her chef make some of that

luscious raspberry pie. I can never, ever, ever, ever resist that raspberry pie!!!"
   

Meanwhile, back on the guanaco plains, the three Cort's Angels all dressed, of course, in

purest white had managed to drag the netted helicopter and its occupants to the edge of

the River of Pain. Together, they gave the net a mighty shake and out tumbled the fallen

Demi-like Angel in her black leathers....and, of course, Cort, who looked a little the worse

for wear. Not because of being dragged across the lumpy guanaco plain in a collapsed

vinyl helicopter, but from all the groping Sue had managed to get in on the way.
 

Sue's whip and pistols, though, had fallen off her person and were enfolded somewhere

within the black vinyl. Grecian Mary slipped her hand in her pocket, her fingers caressing

the pruning shears. Maybe just a nip here and there....? she mused.

Sue stood there before them, resplendent in leather, only one of her boots planted in a

guanaco pie. She was angry. She was beginning to show a slight green tinge. She was

bulging here and there. Oh...'scuse me...those were just her...well. With the three Cort's

Angels advancing on her, shoulder to shoulder, Sue decided to continue the battle later...

at a time and place of her own choosing. She pushed a large silver button on her holster

buckle, opening the enormous black leather wings folded into the back of her bustier, and

with a final glare, flew off toward the Tower.
 

The Three Angels studied Cort. He was rumpled. He was decorated somewhat with the byproducts of guanaco digestion...he was dry. There had been, had there not, a request

from the hostess that he be wet. How could this be accomplished? They exchanged smiles, looking at the river rushing by behind him. Moving smoothly as a practiced unit, the 3

tackled the cowboy, flipping themselves and him into the swirling waters. Sue might like

a good dusting, but, they found, there was nothing quite like a good wetting.
   

Back atop the ledge, Andrea, Hando, and Arthur were standing in the entrance of the

hacienda. Arthur was studying the piece of brown seaweed stuck between the toes of

Andrea's left foot. He was considering if it were wise to resist his impulse to remove it,

given the fact that Hando was looking at him as though he were roadkill that needed to

be kicked off the path. That Hando...he was always in such a jolly, light-hearted mood!

If only he would take that knife out of his mouth.

The sound of Jack's laughter reached them. Hando glared (his main way of looking at

anyone) at Andrea. He had seen the perking of her ears. Nothing escaped his prowling

eyes. Andrea batted her lashes coyly, attempting, but not succeeding in looking innocent.

After all, given her past history, plus her friendship with the Black Angel, there wasn't

any way, really, the woman could look innocent. And there was, you know, that strange

incident atop the London Eye last Autumn that made the papers worldwide. Not to

mention the time she had single-handedly caused the evacuation of the entire north shore

of the Thames. Many of the Royal scandals had been directly traced to her door. But...I

digress.
   

The strutting song from Saturday Night Fever filled the air, the French doors on the back

of the hacienda blew inwards, and no less a personage than Sid 6.7 deigned to enter the

room, a strange woman on his arm. They were both dressed completely in purple, though

the woman's lipstick was an odd shade of iridescent blue and her breath smelled faintly of cheese. Sid smiled his oily smile, introducing his companion as Susan 4.8. "She's in training,"

he added. "Someday I hope to bring her up to a full 6.7."

Hando glared (for a change!). Fellers dressed in purple were not his cup of poison. In spite

of certain similarities, the two men had never liked one another. Hando liked violence and mayhem for what, at least to him, were well- thought- out reasons, while Sid merely enjoyed

it for the pleasure it provided... oh, and possible total world domination, of course...including Illinois.
   

Just then a smaller side door opened and Juditha staggered through, supporting the still weakened General. The plot thickened considerably. Sid, removing Susan 4.8's arm from

his purple sleeve, said, "Pardon me a moment," walked toward the wobbly Commander

of the Felix Legions, reached into his breast pocket, and with the most purely evil laugh

ever heard atop the tallest of the Towers of Pain, sprinkled red petals all over Maximus

and his Lady. "There!" he exclaimed in self-satisfaction, stepping back to survey his

handiwork. "The perfect precursor to set the stage for your destiny this night!"

Juditha shook with such anger that she nearly let the General slip from her grasp and

slump to the white wool carpet with its mysterious traces of tarantula juice. Terry,

coming into the room at that moment, sized up the situation instantly with his K&R eyes.

"All right, Sid, that's enough!" he commanded in a deep, rumbly Aussie- inflected voice.

Amanda and Annette...his A-Team....smiled. How rare it was that a character actually

got to speak with a natural Aussie accent. It was one of the reasons they were so fond of

this bloke!
   

And have you noticed, hmmmm?, how many of our cast are now assembling in the very

same room for the first time? Even Ute, who had sent Jeffrey over to the H.M.S. Home

to procure some cigarettes and soy sauce, had stepped quietly onto the scene, attracted by

all the raised voices. She had been ironing her gown for the evening and still had the

implement in her hand. Should she bean the 6.7 one now...or later?
 

Susan Guildford, in her hand the now-recovered blue poppy...residing in great

contentment within its golden goblet, also showed up. Her dates were always late, she

sighed. Johnny had psychological problems with the railroad crossing at the dock beside

the mooring of the barge and Zack, well, the FuzzyOne could never seem to find a place

to park his half-destroyed convertible.
   

Lucilla, unseen, had finally slipped upstairs to choose her gown. She chuckled softly as

she saw the gathering of  "guests" in her foyer. If they only knew....if they only KNEW!!!
 

Party 21..by Audrey

Meanwhile, unaware of the turmoil surrounding them, Bud and Audrey searched Lucilla's mansion, looking for a suitable venue for the activities they had in mind.  As they reached

the end of a long corridor on the third floor, Bud opened the last door on the left and smiled sweetly.  Audrey walked in past him and stopped.  Tears came to her eyes.  "Oh sweetheart"

she gasped (folks in epis gasp a lot also)...."You did this for ME?"

In the center of a room filled with sweet-scented hay, sat the most wonderful sight she had

ever seen.... a giant milk stool, fifteen feet across with a soft mattress and a beautiful

handmade quilt. Souvenir pillows with mottos for various small towns across the United

States were scattered over its surface.  Audrey noticed several from her native Michigan....

"Fly to Pigeon....it'll be a feather in your cap", "Be an eager Beaver...vacation in Beaverton", "Cadillac....it's not just for breakfast anymore". 

She was overcome.

Bud, seeing her tears but not realizing the reason for them and fearing she was upset,

gently picked up all 5'10 of her in one arm and laid her down on the giant footstool. She

grasped his arms and pulled him down to her for a lingering kiss. "Oh honeybunch," she whispered.  "Terry is always helping his girlfriends with his.....equipment.  Since you're

an officer of the law, I'll bet your is mighty fine as well.  Perhaps you can show me its

various uses."

At this juncture in time, the door to the room flew open.  When Audrey saw who it was,

she hissed in anger and said "YOU!!!  How did YOU find us???"

The person silhouetted in the door just smiled.....

Party 22..by Jo

....a cold, hard, teeth-clenched smile as her eyes surveyed the scene before her. BertiBUD

had, at last, made it to the top of the tallest Tower of Pain. It had taken her quite some hours

to free her leg from that bear trap Audrey had sneakily placed in Bert's bathroom and to

get unglued from the bathtub and find new clothes as all hers had been put through the

library shredder and to replace the missing tickets and unlock the door and jump across

the giant holes in the floor and make her way past the yard full of loose attack dogs and

killer bees, then change all 4 tires on her car and unweld the door and hotwire the engine

 and get the sugar out of the gas tank after plugging the holes in it and get around the
spikes in the driveway and the fallen oak trees and the whirling vortex of doom... but, nonetheless, she had finally made it. She was in NO mood to find her Bud atop a giant

padded milking stool with the liberrian!!! At least, she could plainly tell, she had been in

time to prevent the fulfillment of Audrey's evil plans (not having been present for the

alcove scene).      Meanwhile...
 

Party 23...by Lucilla

Lucilla was trying to decide what to wear. Jack likes this, Cort likes that. Should I dress

for Terry or Maximus ? She couldn't decide what would be best, some- thing for a quick getaway would be good.
 

Just then there was a knock at the door .....Who was it ?
 

Sid popped his head in an asked "Is it all set ?"
 

Lucilla was furious !Between clenched teeth she told him to get out before anyone saw him

there. Was that the band warming up downstairs or someone thumping up the stairs ? ? ?

Part 24..by Lucilla

No, it was just Audrey's milking stool thumping its way up the stairs. Sid took off with a

run down the back stairs while Lucilla decided on a black leather bodysuit. She headed

 off downstairs to check on her special brownies and raspberry pie. Amanda made a

special request for Grog. I can do that she thought to herself and walked into the kitchen

for the umpteenth time that day.

Meanwhile by the front door......

Part 25...by Jo

After ALL! Were we REALLY to think that the hostess of the party and the owner of all

the vast Fuegan estates did not KNOW about the presence of the blue nanogoo right under

her feet, clad in the 6" spike black heels with the 3 ankle straps? Hardly!
 

When the leg of the piano stool went hurtling down the spiral steps, Sid hopefully checked

to see if mayhap there were blood upon it. Had he not been personally responsible for dematerializing the whirling vortex of doom Audrey had cleverly planted in BertiBUD's

path so that she might arrive at the hacienda and confront the dastardly liberrian? He

lived for such confrontations between the women of Crowedom. That, and total world domination. Even Illinois.
    

"Really, Sid," Lucilla continued, "don't you think the red petals were a bit....much?" 

Sid seldom thought anything was too much and he continued his examination of his

perfect self in her tri-fold mirror, ignoring her completely.
 

Lucilla was quite annoyed with the overblown computer chip. She feared, with much cause,

that his vanity would lead to the discovery of the unspeakable plot they had hatched  and,

on top of that, now Amanda had requested grog. It was nearly too much for a hostess to

handle!!!
    

Back in the foyer, all eyes were upon Juditha and Maximus, sagging in her arms. Everyone

was shocked at the sight. Never had they seen their General in such a weakened condition.

It was obvious to them all...even Andrea...that Sid was behind whatever had transpired.

Blowing the last red petal from his shoulder, Juditha spoke in a voice full of grimitude.

"My fellow CroweWomen and Characters, there is something you all must be made

cognizant of immediately if not sooner. Beneath this Fuegan estate lies a vast cavern filled

with burbling blue nanogoo. I have seen it with my own eyes and...."
 

She was interrupted by a corporate gasp. A breeze swept past Juditha's cheeks, generated

by several dozen eyes narrowing all at once. Never...NEVER... in all the annals and

archives and records  of Crowedom had so many narrowings been done by so many

eyeballs in concert.
      

Russell popped his head in the door, announcing, "The concert will be after the dinner,

folks. No cameras!"

Shannon squeezed his arm fondly, "I think the term was used in a rather 'unison' meaning,

dear heart." For him, though, the word 'concert' HAD only one meaning.
     

Terry, ever the gentleman, helped Juditha settle the rumpled gladiator on a nearby couch.

She sat beside him, gently rubbing his forearm, peering into his seagreen eyes in great

concern. He had not spoken a word since she had found him hanging there in that

laboratory. Hoping for some response, she asked, "Maximus, is the couch comfortable,

dearest?"

The slightest smile began to tug at one corner of his lips as he managed to whisper, "It is acceptable."

It was then she knew he would recover from whatever hideousness Sid had put him through. When he ran lines, she knew his brain was ok and had not been fried. Relief flooded through her.

Terry smiled happily. He loved good outcomes from kidnapping situations. Well, there

HAD been that one....but that was another story.
    

Jeffrey arrived with Ute's soy sauce, but had not been able to bring himself to get that... other...item. There was the sound of flapping leather as Sue entered through an upstairs

window. Johnny and Zack arrived together at the large entrance.

Johnny, eyeing the agent with some consternation, asked Susan Guildford, "Don't tell me

I actually have to turn into THAT some day!!!" 

"Give the guy a chance, for Pete's sake," Susan intoned. "No one gives the poor guy a

chance!!!" 

Alex, happening by with his elegant Countess on his arm, chimed in, "I know the feelin',

mate! I know the feelin'!"
 

Pat just smiled up at Alex and said, "I, however, will give you as many chances as you like."

He grinned and replied, " From you, I think I will need quite a few...quite a few."  Pat

blushed, but was so tanned from the golf courses of the world that one could not really tell.
    

And so they gathered...the poor innocent guests...and some not so innocent ones as well. But...which was which? Would time tell...or would it keep its mouth shut for a change?
    

A large puddle seeped under the front door. Ah! Cort and the 3 Angels must have arrived

at last. River water trickled onto the white wool carpet, mingling with the tarantula juice,

the plopped pie, the violet petals, wet noodles, and shards from the shattered Ming Dynasty spittoon.  Lucilla swore that for her next party...given that there were no intervening

eruptions or massive earth movement...she would carpet in tweed shag.
    

The door opened again and, there in the darkness, stood 4 sopping, sodden, not to mention

WET figures. As the white-clad angels went upstairs to choose their evening attire, Cort

stood there a long moment, strands of water-darkened hair plastered across his admirable

face. He must stand there and be beheld by all Crowedom, you see, as that was the whole purpose in a Cort-wetting.....the beholding. All CroweWomen knew this.
 

The beholding was interrupted by the squeak of leather from the spiral steps, the perfect placement of a practiced lasso, and the pronouncement, "ALL beholding of a wet Cort

will be done by me...and by ME ALONE!!!"  That Sue was a real party-pooper at times.

She had laughed aloud, she had, during Star Trek IV when Kirk said that there were times

when the good of the one outweighed the good of the many. She knew for certain that the

good of her black-leather self outweighed ALL other goods at all other times.
     

Lucilla, back in the kitchen, was thinking along similar lines. What WAS it about these

women who dressed in body-fitting black leather???? Lucilla chortled, checking on her

"treats" for the evening, then turned as someone unwelcome entered the hatchery of her plottings.
 

Part 26...by Jo

Not really caring a fig (well, maybe a fig, possibly not a raisin) for what might or might

not be happening in the rest of the over-crowded hacienda,  Jack and Jo decided it was

time for them to have some moments alone. Jack, watching briefly from the spiral stairs,

was glad to know the gladiator had been recovered in what, to all appearances, looked

like one piece. He was fond of Maximus above all the other characters, finding in him a

younger version of his own marvelous ability to command men. But, as fond as he was of

his junior form, he was fonder yet of the form pressed closely to his side. Aside from the

72 minutes of wild kissing upon his arrival at the railing of the H.M.S. Home, he had had

no time at all just to settle back and enjoy her marvelous (epi writers get to say such things) company.  As nice as it had been to have her perched there upon his broad shoulder as he crossed the sideways, rapidly disintegrating rope bridge between the two Towers of Pain,

as well as as nice as it had been to...er...aid...her in the climbing of the red ivy-encased

tower, he considered that so far the epis had been sadly lacking in...er...quality...time

between him and his beloved. After all, had it not been the gladiator who got to bury his

face in Juditha's breast? Had it not been that cop who had had to pay the price for his

long-overdue-books, there upon the milking stool? He paused, thinking of the scattered

wet noodles, and frowned. Those he was not sure about at all...but violet petals...those

held possibilities. And, then, there had been the cowboy who had gotten lovely Grecian

hair brushed across his cheek and then been thoroughly groped by Sue inside the

collapsed vinyl helicopter as it was dragged across the guanaco grazing lands. Yes...

given that he himself was the most anticipated of all the characters, the one whom all

of them would crowd to see were he to be on display upon some screen somewhere....he considered it way past time for there to be more...er...love interest...in his epis!  His

thoughts then turned to the round, stone room at the top of the ivied tower. A slow smile

spread across his lips, widening and widening, as he remembered the 12" layer of pink

sponge. Ah! Now THERE was a room made for love interest activity if he had ever heard

of one! YES!  Pausing only long enough to straighten the large bend in his left epaulette,

he took Jo firmly by the hand and headed up the spiral steps...back the way they had come.

"But, Jack!" Jo laughed, instantly discerning the meaning of the light in her captain's

eyes, "what about the party?" 

Jack, lowering his eyes half way in a look that bespoke....well....many things...said huskily, "Some things can wait. Some can't."
   

And with that, the epi discretely moves back to the deck of the golden barge. Some things

should be openly talked about. The inspirations found upon 12" of pink sponge...well, that

is another matter. The only thing that can be said is that on the way up the stairs, the

captain scooped up a handful of violet petals as they passed by the alcove.
   

It was completely dark now as the golden barge rode at anchor there in the River of Pain.

How appropriately it was named, thought Egan, standing at the rail, the moonlight casting

a silver glow on his wavy brown hair. All afternoon he had sought the elusive, non-existent

 Silver Seahorse to no avail. He knew the party would begin at any moment and when

Lucilla discovered her centerpiece on the hors d'oeuvre sidebar had not been yet set in place....well, after all the trouble Amandamus had taken in the gold plating of the 11,000

snails and the gluing of them in delicate floral patterns to the wall....well....sigh....the

hostess would not be pleased. He remembered the last time she had not been pleased. Body

parts floated down the river for some days afterward. Captain Dizzy, laying aside her

bagpipe and sheep stomachs, slid down the slanted deck. Coming up behind him, she slid

her arms around his middle and rested her cheek on his shoulder blade (ah! more cheek-

resting!).  How well she understood this man's pervading passion  to catch the Silver

Seahorse. No matter how many other seahorses he may have caught in his days, the Silver

one haunted his dreams. There were times when he had come so close...so close...only to

see its wake disappear behind some beaver dam. Dizzy felt his whole body tense and she

dropped her arms to peer in the direction he was gazing. Was that a flash of silver in the moonlight? WAS it??Oh, my, YES...it was! Egan was over the side and into his tiny kayak

before she could blink. Rowing like a madman, he chased the flashes of silver down the

roaring cataracts in the moonlight. Dizzy followed them with her eyes until they

disappeared over the brink of the Cataract of Doom (ever notice how everything is either

Pain or Doom in Fuego?) 

Half an hour later, Egan appeared, walking up the riverbank, a piece of smashed red kayak

in one hand and a net gripped in the other. He saw his Dizzy one and raised the net high, as

a silver form wriggled in its confines. She joined him on the shore and together they climbed

the wobbly rope ladder to the hacienda's ledge. Entering through a pantry door, Egan

looked at the sidebar with its array of delicacies....its red caviar shaped in the form of tiny...tiny...raspberries,  it's pheasant eyeballs glazed with mustard sauce,  its marinated

tongue of swine, its chocolate-coated eggshells. Then he looked at the Silver Seahorse in his

net. Such noble, intelligent eyes the seahorse had. How could he plop it on the shaved ice

in the midst of all...all...THAT???? Surely it deserved a better end?

He and Dizzy exchanged meaningful looks. She was thinking the same thing...so together

they went back out the pantry door...crossed the moonlit lawn with its remnants of Pat's

bottom flounce....and stood side by side atop the edge of the ledge. Slowly Egan pulled

back the net from the Silver Seahorse, setting the handsome creature on the grass. The

seahorse, in one mighty leap, sailed off the ledge, disappearing into the darkness below.

Egan, a tear slowly trickling down his cheek, turned and walked with Dizzy back to the

brightly-lit and noisy hacienda. It was, thereafter , never really known if the Silver

Seahorse's mighty leap had taken it back to the River of Pain or if it had perished on

the ice stalagmites lining the base of the cliff. There are, though, stories told amongst

the Tehuelche children of the ghost of a magnificent Silver Seahorse that rides the

crashing waters of the huge cataracts and can only be seen by the pure of heart.
   

Meanwhile, unbeknownst as yet to the guests, the cavern of blue nanogoo had been

overheating for some hours. The first sign that something may have been amiss came as

Egan passed the wax replica of Barry Manilow on Lucilla's front lawn and noticed that

it had melted down to its belt buckle. He was too absorbed in the emotion of the whole

Silver Seahorse thingy to pay it any real attention, though. Entering the grand foyer, he

saw Hando glaring again at Andrea. Not only had the woman's ears perked at the sound

of Jack's distant laughter earlier, but NOW the woman actually had made an attempt to

bolt with the wet cowpoke. The very same cowpoke who was leaving small puddles of river

water on the spiral steps as Sue dragged him upwards with her rope. All eyes were on that scene, while, all unnoticed, Sid....
   

Part 27...by Susan in Wisconsin (not to be confused with the English, blue-poppied Susan)

The bedlam at the party was getting out of hand.  Lucilla's kitchen concoctions were

working wonders, though, and people were beginning to walk around with wide sleepy

miles on their faces. Suddenly Captain Jack stood up tall . What did he see on the horizon

but sails - three sails - could this be an enemy ship? All eyes turned as Captain Jack rushed

for the pier. Nobility itself came around the peninsula.  A beautiful tall ship, in full sail, silhouetted against the sunset stole everyone's heart.  From a distance, a shape could be

seen leaning out from the shrouds just as a certain captain had done upon The Rose. It

was - it was the Lusty Wench aboard none other than the HMS Bounty.

"Heave to" she shouted. "Drop Anchor."  "Ready the long boat." 
 

Part 28...by Jo

Armed with a giant monkey wrench, Susan 4.8, well on her way to her 6.7 certificate of

demerit, dared to write:

"Heave to" she shouted. "Drop Anchor."  "Ready the long boat."

********
For it was, indeed, true. Jack loved the curve of a beautiful set of sails. Susan 4.8, you see,

was actually Susan in Wisconsin's evil purple-wearing, cheese-downing twin. What she

would have us all believe, were we not all more perspicacious than that, was that the so-

called "good" twin was the Lusty Wench aboard the HMS Bounty. However, it was easy

o tell from the calculated manner of her approach, leaning out from the shrouds (how appropriate, Jo thought, testing the edge of her cutlass) with that stalk of breadfruit plant clutched in her teeth, her poofie shirt all unlaced, her striped skirt tucked for the most

part into her wide black spandex belt, that the woman had every intention in the world

of a captain-snatching raid on Fuego. Also, Susan from Wisconsin, hereinafter known as

Susan LW as both Wisconsin and Lusty Wench involve too much typing, had failed in her...er...zest...to note that it was pitch black outside now and the glorious sails, lit only

by the brightness reflected off Susan LW's teeth in the moonlight, was gone once her lips

closed. Then, too, she had not counted on one of Lucilla's more dastardly plots to snatch

that very same overly-sought captain. Running forthwith to the secret chamber off her

dressing room, Lucilla began furiously punching keys on her solid gold computer.

Down at its moorings, her golden barge began to twitch and twiver. It's oars began to fold

up, it's single mast fade into mist, its very form shimmering and shifting in the moonlight.

Steve and Leah barely managed to escape with their towels before it heaved up and then

out and then down and then...well...it did LOTS of heaving! All of Lucilla's guests had run

to the edge of the ledge and stared down in some amazement at what was transpiring far

below on the River of Pain. Lucilla's ultimate weapon of captain-capture began to take

shape in a golden fog. It was...it was...yes...it was the Surprise itself!!! The golden barge

had only been her decoy to make Crowedom think she had designs on Maximus. The truth

was now being made manifest! Lucilla sprinted out of the hacienda, right up to Jack's

elbow, looked up into his astonished face and whispered, "Surprised?"
 

Indeed, he was! He couldn't take his eyes off her...by that "her" I mean the ship, not Lucilla. 

Jo, on Jack's other side, had had enough! She was not the cutlass champion of Liechtenstein

for nothing! Lucilla, having secretly taken cutlass lessons in Baja some months past,

produced her own cutlass from within the folds of her black leather catsuit. (No wonder

she had been walking with such a strange gait since she'd dressed for the evening!) 

Jo flung the hem of her gossamer gown over her left forearm ( she had had said garment

on ever since awaiting Jack back at the H.M.S. Home, you may recall) and smiled, a quiet, deadly smile for one so daintily attired. Here and there a piece of pink sponge, not to

mention a stray violet petal or two, still clung to her gown. Her eyes lit at the memory

of how Lucilla's 12" of sponge were now compressed to a mere 3".  She knew Jack had

not forgotten, either. How could he!! How could he EVER???? 

Now all eyes lifted from the Surprise to the two women, facing each other at the edge of

the tallest of the Towers of Pain. With a move that would have gladdened the heart of

Gene Kelly himself, Jo leapt to the top of the stump of the half-melted Manilow replica.

Her blade swished, a smile she could not completely hide twitching at the corner of her

mouth. Lucilla stared at her in horror. But it was not Jo herself that had the hostess so

horrified, it was her sudden awareness that Manilow was melting. Only she (and Sid)

could know the terrible consequences of such a thing! Dropping her cutlass heedlessly

on the lawn, Lucilla ran into the hacienda....calling wildly, "SID!  SID! Where are you???" 

In answer, all she heard was....
 

Part 28.5...by Audrey

.....the haunting strains of a familiar melody.  Lucilla ran to the edge of a small grove of

trees where she saw Audrey, sitting and holding Bud's head to her medium-sized bosom

while she rubbed his brushcut against her medium-sized cheek.  They were both staring

in wonder at a young teenaged boy with black-rimmed glasses, a black robe and  black

hair that stood up in odd cowlicks.  He had a strange, lightning-shaped scar on his fore-

head and was waving a wand.  In front of him were an even dozen milking stools, bouncing

up and down and dancing "The Macarena".
 

Audrey clapped her hands in childish delight, but Bud looked a bit put out by the scene

before him, as though he knew there were MUCH better uses to which milking stools

could be put.
 

"Hey, KID!" he growled in a menacing voice.  "Shouldn't you be in SCHOOL?" The boy

looked up, startled to see a well-muscled bear of a man rising from his sweetheart's lap

and striding slowly toward him, fists forming at the ends of his massive arms.  SNAP!  The

boy wizard disappeared. Bud stared at the place where the boy had been standing.  He

motioned for Audrey to join him.  The milking stools were all standing quietly, each on

their own three legs.  Bud pulled Audrey to him a bit roughly and smiled sweetly at her

s only he could. "Now there are twelve of them.  Think what we could do with TWELVE

of them!" He leaned forward to softly whisper in her ear but just then...................

Audrey Who Gets to Star in Her Own Epis

Part 29...by Lucilla

Lucilla ran into the hacienda....calling wildly, "SID! SID ! Where are you ???" In answer,

all she heard was...
*************************************

Amanda calling her as she ran through the doorway. You see Amanda had been promised brownies to die for and some darn good grog.

Lucilla said, "Oh, my gosh Amanda, I am sooo glad to see you."  She whispered in Amanda's

ear and Amanda's eyes got wider and rounder as she listened to Lucilla whisper. "You poor dear," was all she was heard to be saying over and over again.
 

Lucilla straightened up and said "Amanda you need to go find Terry and Maximus

quickly !"

This party was not going according to plan. Look over there 1531 raspberry pies were not

even touched. Boy, was Sid going to furious when he found out nobody was eating the pie... 

Part 30..by Susan in Wisconsin

The Bounty had dropped anchor.  A Wisconsin flag flew proudly over the main mast. 

Susan from Wisconsin called to the Crowemates to come aboard.  She especially called

a lusty welcome to Captain Jack to come aboard and inspect her vessel. It was the finest

on the seven seas, but needed a captain.

What would Captain Jack do?

Party 31..by Susan in Wisconsin

Susan LW jumped back in her long boat and ordered "Back to the ship - I smell a battle!!"  "Raise all sail, ready the cannon"  Pulling her own cutlass out of her spandex waist band

she laughed at the fight starting between the gossamer dressed Jo and the catsuited Lucilla.  While they were engaged, she would position the Bounty and blast the Surprise to Davy

Jones locker!! The Bounty weighed anchor and proceeded to position herself abeam of

he Surprise. "Fire!" yelled Susan LW but suddenly Captain Jack loomed up on the side. 

"Fire upon my ship and you'll never view my handsome chest again!" Captain Jack shouted

as he leaned out from the shrouds to get a better view of the Bounty.

"So, Captain Jack, you are the Captain of the Surprise? I thought it was that golden

computer-wielding trickster Lucilla.  I have your ship under my guns Captain.  To ransom

your ship you must do one thing - CUT YOUR HAIR AND LET IT GO DARK AGAIN!!

Ha H, thought Captain Jack.  The Surprise outguns the Bounty 2 to 1. I'll blow her out

of the water!  How dare she ask me to cut my hair. 
 

Part 32...by Jo

What would Captain Jack do?
**********
Alas, we were not soon to find out...for Jack had helped Jo off the melting Manilow replica

and together they sprinted for the hacienda. Amandamus was in the kitchen, comforting

Lucilla regarding the uneaten raspberry pies. It was hard for her to do, though, as

Amandamus felt that she herself deserved a great deal of comforting since the 11,000 gold

plated snails never did end up with the glorious Silver Centerpiece placed beneath them.

All her hours and hours with the tiny paintbrush now seemed in vain and she was vexed.

Really vexed. Her eyes narrowed. All she had ever wanted out of these epis was a warm,

fuzzy moment...preferably with Terry...or maybe Maximus...or Cort if he were nicely

wetted.

She looked up as the sound of marching feet came from the two horns of the mountain

that curved over the hacienda. Lucilla waved a hand absently in the air, remarking,

"Never mind that! It's just my squadrons of legionnaire security guards setting up patrols

on the horns."

Since she did not personally check, however, how was she actually to KNOW her

legionnaires had been overpowered by the gangs of armed penguins that, you may recall,

Jo had seen earlier whilst still gazing over the railing of the H.M.S. Home. If Lucilla HAD known, she then might have had time to loose her trained attack chipmunks. But such was

not the case. And, so, the epis degenerated ever more deeply into wanton madness.
   

Only Juditha seemed to have any sort of serious storyline any more...so let us go and check

upon our worn and weary couple. Audrey, in a fit of temporary insanity in some recent

epi (27), had placed her hand on Maximus' arm, right? Immediately she realized what she

had done and explained to Juditha that it had come upon her suddenly...this madness...after

her confrontation with BertiBUD, and the liberrian graciously backed off and went in search

of Nash as she felt a sudden urge to wrap strings around little pushpins. Juditha noticed that

the white wool carpet beneath her boots was getting strangely warm, but chalked it up to

her nearness to her gladiator. They leaned together, head resting against head, as he closed

his eyes and she sang soft tunes in Gaelic. (Well, there has to be a little gentleness and

sweetness in this story SOMEWHERE, doesn't there???) Lightly, she rested her right palm

atop his massive left hand. Eyes still closed, he slowly raised his own right hand, cupping it protectively over hers. And so they sat, lost in each other, while armed penguins slid down

ropes to the roof of the hacienda.
   

And where, you may ask, was Russell in the midst of all this? Why out on the curving

marble steps, of course, directing the placement atop the portico of the large neon orange banner that proclaimed 2003 TOFOG WORLDWIDE TOUR!! NO CAMERAS!!! NO

SEATS!!! NO AIR CONDITIONING!! and in smaller lettering underneath....Bring Your

Own Defibrillation And Resuscitation Equipment...and in finer print still...Management

Not Responsible For Lost Articles, Sudden Death or Dismemberment. Such were the ways

of a genuine TOFOG concert. Russ smiled. It was perfect! Well, at least it would be if he

could only find his stolen golden ponytail and have it rewoven in time.

Taking Shannon's arm, the two flanneled ones returned to the foyer. Shannon was convinced that Jo person must have stolen the priceless ponytail. Anyone who would stand in a hallway, looking at her Russell with such a wicked grin whilst he was in the midst of anguished plumed helmet swallowing memories... why, such a person was well capable of a nefarious deed like

this! Indeed, Jo WAS capable of it, vastly preferring as she did the chestnut mass to the limp

hair appendage hanging down his back...but she was not the culprit.
   

Jo, meanwhile, was in her room, sorting through the various outfits and accessories she

could don for the festivities. And, yes, I am sorry to report that she did, for a time anyway, consider fringe...fringe that was not just fringe fringe, but was cut from patent leather

itself. Jack rapped at her door, and entered quietly, expressing his preference that she

remain in the gossamer gown as it was so thin and floaty. How could Jo refuse him any-

thing? Especially after the sponge compression? I think it may have been, too, that the

 gossamer fabric was just so very different from the thick, dark, usually wet wool of his

Captain's coat that it appealed to him so much. It was made of the creamiest, palest yellow gossamer imaginable and reminded him of the morning sky, just before the sun comes over

the horizon. He ran his large thumb through part of the soft drape at her neckline and

smiled, thinking spongy thoughts.
   

Sid had not answered Lucilla's call because he had made his way down to the docks via

the interior passage that led past his laboratory. He would usually have stopped there at

the lab and checked his dials and gauges and all, but was distracted after having caught

sight of Susan LW and Susan 4.8 talking together and felt the need to investigate. The

Bounty had docked beside the Surprise and there was a veritable eye-feast of glorious

canvas snapping in the crisp breeze. Being a landlubber himself, he did not think it strange

that both ships should be at full sail while moored. What he DID find strange, though, was

the sudden presence of two Susans who looked exactly alike save that one was clothed all

in purple and the other had a most attractively unlaced poofie shirt on. Andrea came out

from behind the giant barnacle where she had hidden from Hando long enough to remark

with some petulance, "Hey! How come SHE gets to be TWO characters in the story and I

only get to be ONE??" Londoners! Once they had nearly toppled the monarchy, they

were greedy folk ever after!
   

Lucilla had come briefly down to the docks because the arrival of the beautiful Bounty

had distracted many of her guests from the location of the festivities for which she had so painstakingly prepared. She shooed them all back up the wobbly rope ladder, encouraging

them with promises of TOFOG and raspberry pie. Back at the top, ...
 

Part 33...by Jo

no...no...not YET back at the top for several wild and wooly CrowePersons were still

dawdling aboard ship (s) reenacting various swashbuckling movie scenes and had not yet

had their fill. Ah, now they were satiated, it would seem and ready to climb the wobbly

rope ladder. Once at the top, Lucilla had to deal with Audrey, Bud, and the 12 milking

stools. She knew she must intervene quickly before the liberrian had become hopelessly

twisted into permanent pretzel-likeness in the attempt to...er...use... all 12 stools at once.

"AH! FIREWOOD!" Lucilla cried, quickly gathering the 12 stools in her arms and running

for the funeral pyre...er...bonfire, that's right...bonfire...she had quietly laid on the back

patio, with a certain gossamer-clad person in mind as the marshmallow du jour.

Audrey, however, did not seem in the least pleased at the stool-snatching!!! "Hey," she

shouted at the fleeing form of her hostess, "couldn't ya at least have left me a single stool sample???!!"

Calling back over her shoulder, Lucilla said, "Auds, if you really need a stool sample...try

going down to the guanaco grazing lands!!!!"

Giggling, the hostess dashed behind her hacienda, dumping the milking stools upon the pyre...er... bonfire. "There!" she said in some satisfaction, dusting her palms together.

"THAT should be enough fuel!" So entranced was she with her...er...burning thoughts...

she failed completely to notice the dozens of narrowed penguin eyes watching her silently

in the darkness from the rooftop.
   

Entering her home through the back French doors, she was greeted by a stern-faced crew.

Bud, Zack, and Biebe stood in a semi-circle, questioning person after person. "What's going

on, guys?" Lucilla queried, her heart in her throat as she wondered if these lawmen were

onto her dastardly plotting.

"Ma'am," said Biebe, doffing his giant black fur hat, not realizing how much the hostess

hated to be called Ma'am by a character, "Russell has hired us to track down the golden ponytail thief."

An audible exhalation of relief hissed out through her clenched teeth. So far so good, she thought. They hadn't yet discovered her ingredients, her pyre, the building threat of the overheating blue nanogoo...nor any of the other of her yet-to-be-revealed plots. Only the transmogrification of the golden barge was out in the open at this point and she intended

to keep it that way!

Shaking her head to bring her thoughts back to the matter at hand, she sweetly replied,

"Is there any way that I may be of service to you?"

Biebe smiled his lovely, soft smile...that smile that so endeared him to Buggie, Sally, Rose,

Jamie and dozens, yea, thousands of other CroweWomen, and said, "Well, Ma'am, (he

failed to notice the loud gritting of her teeth) we don't have a search warrant for your

hacienda and its grounds and were wondering if you would give us your permission to

conduct a thorough search of the premises? Bud, here, has volunteered to wriggle into

your crawl space to look for the identification cards of decomposing corpses and Zack

is prepared to run up the spiral steps, both guns blazing in case any Oriental Mafia have

 made their way into the upper reaches of the house."

"And YOU?" Lucilla asked, teeth still on edge.

"Well, Ma'am, (he could not hear her quiet internal screaming) I thought I would go

outside and check around for black ice. The culprit may have hidden the ponytail in a

deep pool somewhere on your grounds."

So much searching...the possibilities for discovery made Lucilla's head ache. How would

she wriggle her way out of THIS mess??? She brightened...they didn't have a warrant, did

they now!!

"I give you my permission," she said, "but only partial permission. You may search for

the ponytail where you will, only do not go onto the back patio, into the kitchen, in my

personal suite, in any of the 35 bathrooms, in Sid's room, in the pantry, in the alcove, in

the faux emerald mine, or the secret passageway to the laboratory....or, "she added as an afterthought, "the torture chambers."

"Yes, Ma'am (would the man NEVER stop!!!), that'll be just fine," Biebe answered, glad

that she had not prohibited their search from going into any places that sounded in the

least suspicious.
   

Meanwhile, it being time after all that talk of pyres and corpse identity to have a brief

return to the gentle and sweet part of the storyline, Maximus and Juditha still sat on the

couch. She had stopped singing softly in Gaelic and was now quoting Browning love

sonnets to him in the low, murmuring tones of the Telegu language she had learned as

child in southeastern India. She could feel the calming of his heartbeats and soon she

pulled his great, dark head down onto her lap, running her fingertips through his neatly-trimmed beard as he slept. "Rest, my darling, rest now," she whispered softly into his ear.

It was such a tender and sweet moment...except, of course, for Lucilla's almost puking at

the sight.
   

Cort, wet again from Susan's epi, had arrived at the door once more. As he walked into

the bright lights of the foyer, all female eyes (except Juditha's, whose were not about to

detach themselves from the study of Maximus' sleeping profile on her lap) turned at once

 for the obligatory beholding ceremony. Mary, PaulaG and Lise were especially grateful.

Why, Cort had nearly dried between epis! Exchanging satisfied smiles, the 3 angelic

women stashed their buckets of water behind a potted lime tree and returned to the

beholding. Yes, there was nothing quite like a wet Cort, unless maybe it were a sweaty Maximus...or a stair-descending Hando...or a horse-bathing East...or a calf-massaging

Bud...or a...well, you get the picture.
   

Just then a strange "Arp...arp!" sort of noise erupted from under the coffee table.

Bending down, Amandamus shrieked, "Aaaiiiieeeeee! It's an ugly mutant DOG!"

Jo, coming into the room, her pale yellow gossamer flowing behind her like the perfume

of lilies (ah, the joys of being an epi writer...hee, hee!), said, "Oh, Amandamus! It's just

Joan!"

"JOAN? What do you mean...JOAN?" Amandamus frowned.

Jo smiled, "Joan....Joan D'Aardvark...my pet!!" Cuddling the long-nosed beast in her arms,

Jo continued, "Joan! You naughty girl! How did you get across the sideways, rapidly-disintegrating 3-mile-long rope bridge?"

"I know, darling," Jack piped in. "It was the fire ants! She must've eaten her way across it!"

"Of course!" Jo returned, looking down fondly at her pet. "Poor baby, I DID forget to feed

you before I left the H.M.S. Home, didn't I! Here, let me just take you into the kitchen and

we'll find something nice for you."

Lucilla shrieked and blocked the doorway with her body. Jo was the last person she wanted

to have loose in her kitchen. "NOOOOOOooooooo!" she cried, "Absolutely NO aardvarks

of any sort are allowed in MY kitchen!"

Jo's brow knitted in disapproval. How often it was that she found such cases of rampant aardvark prejudice still existing in this world...even here in Fuego, of all places! "Humph!"

she humphed, taking Joan with her up the spiral steps, knowing there would be ants in

the alcove because of the wet noodles rotting on the floorboards there.

"NOOOooooOOOoo!" shrieked Lucilla, "Not the alcove! No aardvarks in the alcove!"

Jo then headed for the French doors that led onto the back patio, but again Lucilla

shrieked, "No aardvarks on the patio, either!" Why, my goodness, there would be no way

Jo could avoid seeing the pyre...er...bonfire...were she to go out onto the patio!

"For Pete's sake, Lucilla," Jo grumped, her biceps tiring under Joan's weight, "where

CAN I take Joan?"

Lucilla, of course, thought the best place would be a nice, quick toss off the ledge, but she

said, "Take...it...to your room! That's the only place I ever allow aardvarks in my

hacienda."

"I'll come with you, darling," Jack said, making Jo feel a great deal better, though she

knew he was thinking more of sponge than aardvarks as he followed her gossamer self up

the spiral staircase.
  

Sid, meanwhile, had returned at last to his laboratory to check on the dials and gauges.

Gasping at all the red warning signs, he ....

Part 34...by Jo

.....failed to notice the wet webtracks of hundreds of armed penguins. Were it not for the

fact that he tripped over a large penguin egg, inadvertently left lying near a vat of biowaste,

he might never have known that they had been in his laboratory....up to things known only

to the minds of penguins.....armed penguins. Sid's eyes narrowed as he beheld the yolk of

the broken penguin egg...it was blue, not yellow. No wonder they were bent on revenge!

Their Fuegan nesting grounds had been absorbing blue nanogoo for years now and the

penguins were beginning to mutate into computerized foul fowl. Where would it all end???

Alas, not even Amandamus knew.
   

Susan Guildford, longing for the rains of her native land, sat in a lounge chair on one side

of the portico, studying the play of the moonlight on the Manilow replica, now melted

down to its kneecaps. Unbeknownst to the fair lady, Johnny was even then sneaking

through the gorse bushes, garden hose in hand. How well he knew her love for the endless

drops of rain that beat day after day after day after endless day against the panes of her greenhouse (that very greenhouse where all her blue poppies had met their untimely doom).  Johnny, in his tender love for her, had it in his youthful, inexperienced mind that if he

squirted her with the garden hose as she sat there so serenely dry on the lounge chair, that

she would be happy.  He wanted to make the experience as much like being caught in a

sudden downpour for her as he possibly could. Little did the Aussie lad realize, alas, that

in Susan's wee village there WERE no sudden downpours. It just rained every day of the

year. Steadily. All day. All night.
 

Susan, therefore, had no idea of what a sudden downpour might be...and when Johnny

turned the spigot on full blast and the icy water splatted her smack in her, until then

serenely dry, face....she was...well...not really happy. To say the least. The very least.

Springing to her feet, spluttering and half-drowning, her eyes came to rest upon Johnny, standing there in a large, muddy puddle of gorse-planting dirt, his tightwhitepants

gleaming immaculately in the moonlight.  In one mighty leap she was upon him, flipping

him onto his back in the mud, using her best soccer footwork to roll him over and over in

the deep, wide mudpuddle.

"Susan! SUSAN!" he cried out piteously, "STOP!! My TWPs!!! Remember my TWPs

must NEVER show the slightest sign of wear!"

Susan was in no mood to care about his TWPs, as attractive as they might have been a

few minutes before. After all, Hando's were still perfect, were they not...and Jack's, too.

She glared at him as he lay there, propped on his elbows, muddy water swirling up to his

navel. It was not yet enough! Yanking up the nearest gorse bush , she shook it's rootball

over his TWPs. As her angry English eyes scanned for more ammunition, Johnny

scrabbled away into the darkness.
   

Just then Zack walked out on the portico, looking for Susan. The anger left her eyes and

a small smile curved her lips as she studied the agent. He was fuzzy, yes, she had to admit that...but fuzzy in an adorable sorta way. And, besides, he would never wear TWPs. Why,

she could not even imagine him in TWPs at all!

He came down the curving marble steps and took her hand. "My dear," he said, concern

filling his oddly-accented voice. "Have you gone and hurt yourself?"  Lifting her arm,

he lightly kissed her elbow booboo, gotten in her heedless leap from the high portico. 

How sweet and gentle he was...well, if one were not a member of the Oriental Mafia,

that is.

He led her back to the portico where they sat together a long while in the lounge chair,

Susan on his lap, his beard tickling her neck.  He leaned to kiss her damp cheek. The kiss

would have been sweet... had the bill of his baseball cap not poked the bridge of her nose,

raising somewhat of a welt. He knew he should try something else.

"So," he said, "and who IS your favorite Star Trek captain?" Susan liked him, you see, in

spite of the fact that he never had been all that good at the conversational arts. He made

up for it in other ways. No one was better than he at swimming underwater for long periods

of time while bleeding from several gunshot wounds. Yes, he did have his attractive points.

She wondered why he was not one of the more popular characters. What did Maximus,

standing there alone in the arena, his eyes blazing with emperor-hatred, his hands coated

in sand, his sword swooshing in the hot Maltese air, his armor glistening, not to mention

the sweat trickling down his neck and the muscles cording in his arms and the way that

blue tunic clung to his thighs...what did HE have that was more appealing than her Zack

chasing after an escaping, motorless convertible on a hilly, desert road??? She shook her

head. There was just no accounting for taste!
   

Colin and his Eryn came out on the portico then, strangely pulled, it seemed, by the

thoughts of Oriental Mafia folk and lack of great popularity on his character's part. Why,

it was well known throughout Crowedom, that his movie was often fast-forwarded through....except for the white teeshirt tied to the headboard thing and the dancing in

the tux with the bandaged hands.
   

Meanwhile, Bud had wriggled his way out from under the hacienda, not finding the golden ponytail at all...just 7 or 8 decomposing corpses from a party Lucilla had had a few months

ago. Nothing of note.  He entered the grand foyer just as....

Part 35...by Jo

....Hando entered through the French doors, holding a squirming Johnny by the back of

his collar. "Hey!" yelled the cop, "put that young fellow down!"
 

Hando obligingly dropped the youthful Aussie in a heap, glaring down at him ferociously. Hando's neck veins pulsed as he fairly spat, "You disgrace! LOOK at those TWPs! You

KNOW if you are one of the privileged few characters to wear them, they MUST be kept immaculate at all times!" He would have kicked the younger man in the ribcage, had not

Bud quickly broken the back off a nearby chair and stepped between them.

"Listen, Punk!," Bud roared, "If there's to be any kicking in the ribs around here, I'll do

it myself!"
   

"Oh, Maximus!" Juditha said to the gladiator, who had been awakened by the shouting.

"You would think those men would know when to quit!"
 

Maximus, pushing himself up on  one elbow and staring across the room at Bud and Hando, softly replied, "Would you, Juditha? Would I?"

Pleased at the improvement in his color and the obvious beginning of the return of his

strength, Juditha asked him if, perhaps, he would like to stroll quietly in the rose garden, perhaps sitting for a while on the bench by the fountain. Though he was still tired from battle...er...torture...he smiled and nodded yes. He could deny his Juditha nothing. Her

arms wrapped protectively about his waist, they made their way down the curving marble

steps, stepped carefully over the dirtball-less gorse bush lying on the lawn, and followed

the scent of roses.
    

The Cort-beholding ceremony having been over for some time, Sue, peering down the

spiral steps, planned her next move. She had dressed in a strapless black leather dress

but left her lovely wings still spread wide for effect. Her hair was powdered with diamonds which she had crushed earlier with her strong molars and, after milking them quietly in

her room, had sprayed rattlesnake venom behind her ears and in various other spots. She

was ready!

The three white angels had dried Cort for her and she smiled at the sight of him. No longer

was his formerly water-darkened hair plastered down his forehead, but was dry and doing

that little swingy thing when he moved his head. She sighed. How right Sharon Stone had

been in her assessment of him. She considered her options. Honey or chains? She decided

to try the sweetness and light approach for a change. So, tucking a small tube of antibacterial ointment down her cleavage, she approached her victim...er...intended companion. Wrapping one leather wing about his shoulders, she feigned concern over his raw knuckles and skinless wrists. And, before he knew it, she had proffered the tube of ointment and was sitting in his

lap, massaging the greasy yellow stuff onto his wounds.
    

Steve and Leah had had a terrible time of it, trying to climb the wobbly rope ladder clad

only in bath towels as they were. Well, actually, Leah had not found it terrible in any way

as one could plainly tell from the blushing roses in her cheeks when she arrived at the ledge. Why, even her face was pink.
    

Biebe was wandering around in the dark, still looking for black ice, when he encountered

Sally by the clematis trellis. She stood there, smiling, flipping a puck into the air over and

over with her right hand. He was one of the more popular characters and she had had quite some time in finally getting him alone. Two pairs of hockey skates dangled by their laces

from the fingers of her left hand. If only, she thought,...if only there had been a snow bank nearby. The raised bed of white petunias would have to suffice.

"Hello....John," she said, slightly raising the skates up and toward him.

He thought she looked quite...yes...radiant...was the word for it, standing there in the

moonlight with the skates and the puck and the trailing vines of clematis. His eyes twinkled

as he caught sight of the mounds of white petunias. He moved swiftly toward her and, well,

let us leave it that Lucilla's gardener the next morning had to replace crushed petunias

with geranium plants.
    

Lucilla, standing in the bay window of the dining room, frowned as she looked out into

the night. Her guests were not cooperating at all. Why, just look at how many of them

had scattered about the grounds! How would she get them all back inside? The raspberry

pies were cooling rapidly and the large pan of brownies had sagged a bit in the middle.

She turned and as her eyes rested on the Silver Seahorseless sidebar with the chocolate

melting off the eggshells in the rapidly rising heat, she neared the end of what little

patience she possessed. TOFOG was scheduled to play AFTER dinner, but what if she

pushed that up a bit...like.. like to RIGHT NOW!!
 

Yes! That would bring them all running, it would! Happily she went off in search of

Russell. Popping her head into the practice room, she noted he was not with the other

members of the band. Where could he be? Her eyes narrowed. It was probably that

Shannon woman! She probably had the flanneled one in her clutches somewhere! But

where? She had her answer when the sound of deep rumbly laughter came from the

warm-champagne-filled hot tub in the 19th of her 35 bathrooms. These were by far the

most uncooperative set of guests she had ever had at the hacienda! And that Jo person...

she was the most uncooperative of the lot! She smiled to herself, thinking of raspberry

pies and mounded milking stools on the patio.

Sid interrupted her pleasant reverie as he entered the dining room, proclaiming,

"They're BLUE, Lucilla!!! The penguin yolks are BLUE!"

What was he talking about??? Couldn't he see she was in full hostess-crises mode? What

cared she about penguin yolks of any color???

"Listen!" he cried, shaking her by the shoulders, "The penguins are coming! The penguins

are coming!"

But all that filled her ears was that rumbly hot tub laughter. She stared at him blankly,

not comprehending a thing he was saying.

"Lucilla!" he snapped sharply, "You were never very good at understanding penguin consequences!"

Looking up at him through half-lowered lids, she replied, "I never acquired your comfort

with it."

"You never HAD to! " he stormed back at her before realizing she had wandered off into Maximus-speak and all could well be lost. He knew at last with full certainty that the

hostess standing before him was a torn woman.  She said she wanted Jack, but her

phraseology choices indicated a lingering desire for the General of the Armies of the

North. Just then, the patter of little webbed feet were heard on the rooftops and...

Part 36...by Jo

Susan 4.8, who had been waiting for Sid in the wine cellar, rushed in yelling gleefully,

"Is it Christmas? Is it Christmas already???"
 

Hando, coming in right behind her, knew, though, that it was the beginning of a full-scale onslaught of organized penguins. "Why?" he spat in disgust, glaring at the hostess, "Why

did you ever let the likes of THEM onto your estate in the first place?"
 

"They were here first!" Lucilla snapped, coming out of her Maxi-trance. Sid finally had

her full attention. "What did you say about the yolks being blue? My penguin omelets will

never be the same!" 

Sid, you see, was quite right about her lack of understanding penguin consequences. "My

dear," he explained, his jaw working with impatience, "it means that a generation of

penguins has been born with blue nanogoo in their veins....just as I have."

Now THAT, indeed, got Lucilla's attention. "L...l...like YOU!" she spluttered. The thought

of it sent shivers up her spine. It gave new meaning to the patter of little webbed feet above

her head. Hundreds of computerized foul fowl were even now atop her roof! Where was

Bruce Willis when ya really needed him!! What she wouldn't give right about now for an

Uzi and several square yards of glass shards.

Susan Guildford sprinted past, holding her poppy-filled golden goblet. Lucilla's eyes

narrowed. Why, she thought, WERE those poppies BLUE anyway???? They grew, did

they not, not far from the penguin nesting ground?  She made a quick mental note to

check the color of the guanaco guano next she was down on the grazing lands...or,

perhaps, scrape a sample off Sue's boot.  The plan for world domination that Sid had

come to her with a few years ago was turning into an ecodisaster!!! Not to mention the

party!

The PARTY! Oh, goodness, the party!!!  How could she have forgotten the party?

Nothing was more important than the eating of the raspberry pies and the brownies...

not to mention the pyre...er...bonfire later on the patio. Happy thoughts! Yes! That's

what she needed now...happy thoughts like those to take her mind off impending dooms

of sundry sorts. Jack would soon be hers! Or...or... was it Maximus who would soon be

hers? Terry? Oh, it was all just too confusing!  She needed air!
 

Dashing out onto the lawn, she turned toward the clematis arbor, one of her favorite

retreats when she needed time to collect her thoughts. Just watching her beloved raised

bed of white petunias glowing in the moonlight always made her feel better.
   

Meanwhile,  just beyond the drainage area of the sump pump, Andrea and Arthur swung

slowly together in the tire swing that hung from the huge oak.  Andrea had grown tired

of hiding behind giant barnacles and had found comfort in the nearness of her fellow Welshperson. They had so much to talk about...so much in common...so many shared

memories of Welsh beaches and branding irons...of vicious fields one must avoid encounter-

ing at all costs. He would be perfect, Andrea mused, if only he were older, had more muscles

on him, got rid of the ugly glasses, stopped that silly giggle, developed a bit of a spine, and

cut those long greasy half-bangs that hung limply down his forehead like that. At last,

feeling really close to him, she lifted her bare foot and actually permitted him to remove

the piece of brown seaweed from between her toes. Arthur giggled. This, he knew, was

only the beginning.
   

In the large library, the scene as yet of no action, Phyllis closed the last volume with a

sharp smack. There! She had read the entire Aubrey/Maturin series of 20 books through...TWICE! Let Jo or Lucilla think they knew more of Jack than SHE! Leaping 

to the top of the wing chair, she flung back her head, beat her chest, and emitted the battle

cry of the wild misty gorilla folk. The strange rising and falling of the vocalization rolled

through the hacienda. Sid's eyes darted from side to side. Were the penguin guerrillas s

ignaling attack? Susan 4.8 frowned. The man thought he was sooooooo smart, yet could

not tell the obvious difference between the lower, more menacing urggling of guerrilla

penguins and the pent-up battle lustcry of a CroweWoman who had just read POB not

once, but twice!!! Men!!!
   

A quite handsome and, heretofore, unseen young man walked softly into the library, gazing

up at Phyllis in admiration. She looked down at him from her perch atop the back of the

large wing chair and couldn't resist a slight smile. My! He was an easy-on-the-eyes bloke,

if a tad young.  He was dressed in khakis with a large triangle of sweat darkening between

his shoulder blades and in those hairy indentations where his arms joined his torso that we

are not mentioning whilst Juditha is in the midst of her serious and sweet love story.  A

strange appendage was attached to one elbow. She peered closely at it...why...it WAS an appendage...it was Bryan Brown's arm!! She did not realize, you see, that that had been

the only way he could escape his assigned place as a minor go-fer and launch out on his

own. So entranced was he with the marvelously well-read and well-positioned woman atop

the back of the wingchair, that he absently let the crudified set of dog tags slip from his

fingers and drop, all unheeded, to the white wool carpet.

"H...h...hullo!" he said in a low voice. "Did I hear you thinking Jack thoughts?"
 

Phyllis' eyes narrowed. Now how would he have known THAT.....unless.... unless.....  

He smiled, "I'm Jack, you know. Jack Corbett, one of the least-seen characters of all." 

Yes, Phyllis had to admit, the man WAS Jack....a Jack...not THE Jack...but a Jack of

much lesser rank and many lesser years. "I have possibilities, you know, "he continued, obviously trying to make some sort of case for himself...a case plainly being thought up

by some evil-minded epi writer who was trying to keep THE Jack all for herself lest she

have to rip Maximus from sweet Juditha, a thing she evidently was trying manfully ...er...womanfully...it would seem to avoid for the present...only the present...not forever.

"Have you not heard," he continued, "the theory that if you train up a character in the

way he should go, when he is older, more matured, more experienced, more acclaimed...

he will not depart from you?" 

It was, in fact, a new thought to Phyllis. "If you only give me a chance," he said, looking

at her with those pleading seagreen eyes of his...eyes so very like THE Jack's only they had

seen less of life...."I promise you....I promise you that one day I will BE the Jack."

Phyllis hopped lightly to the floor and circled slowly about this Corbett fellow making

her such serious promises. He was not Navy and not Napoleonic era in any way, but he

did have his charms. There was, tho, no golden ponytail...just neatly-cut light brown hair.

The chin was unbearded, like the Jack's, revealing the cleft. There were no scars. She

liked the scars. Tracing them with her fingertip had brought her many hours of pleasure

in her dreams. Perhaps, she mused, over time...there would be scars. He had promised

he would some day be the Jack. He could not be the Jack without the scars, now could

he? Her excellent mind raced. He was offering her the gift of watching the process of his becoming the Jack. What endless possibilities that might contain! Why, just about ALL

the characters lay between Corbett and Aubrey! He would become East for her...Lachlan

for her...Biebe, Bud, Alex, Terry....Maximus for her!

There were, she frowned those awkward developmental stages he would have to pass through...the Hando/Arthur/ Sid sorta ones. Was she up for the job? She smiled. A gal

who had actually read all the way through POB TWICE could handle anything!!!

"Come!" she said, decision in her tone. "Come, and you, Jack Corbett, and I shall walk

all the way through Characterdom together. And when we have bathed all the horses,

and when we have solved all the crimes and won all the hearts of all the crowds together...

you and I...we shall stand in front of the emperor and be free...free for you to do one final

K&R mission, have imaginary friends... and then....and then....become THE JACK!"  He

flung his young arms about Phyllis in an exuberant hug, while the epi writer narrowed

her eyes and hoped that she had safely averted danger to any future plans involving

sponge.
   

Where WAS Terry??? Amandamus was getting angry. So angry she began to rip gold-

plated snail shells from off the wall above the sidebar, completely destroying their delicate

floral patterns. He had said he would be right back. Those K&R fellows, once they painted

their faces in camo and rode off on helicopter skids, you could never, ever count on them returning when they said they would! She had seen the other member of the A-team,

Annette, schmoozing with that young Kim fellow in his 3-piece suit and his hoity-toity

airs...so, at least, Amandamus knew Terry was not with HER!!!  She knew how often Terry ended up doing guerrilla warfare and wondered had he taken the copter to scope out the

blue-blooded rooftop fowl. One never knew with that man!!! He might even be as close as

the fountain, blowing nose bubbles in the night. Dropping a snail onto a mustard-coated

peacock eyeball on the silver platter, where the effect, appetite-wise, was truly appalling, 

she left the dining room and headed outside, only to encounter...

Party 37...by Jo

one of the young oarsmen from the barge. His clothes were completely shredded and as

she passed him, she remarked, "My! But you're looking pretty raggedy, Andy. What

happened?"  He only looked at her with wide seagreen eyes, shook his brown-haired

head, and dashed off toward the pantry to find some comfort in the presence of dishes.

There was no way he could speak of the lusty- wench- practicing that Susan LW had

just ...er...done. No way. Not at least until he had matured to maybe the Colin level of characterdom.
   

Amandamus, in a bad pun mood because of Terry's absence, continued on past the

captain and Jo. "I see you've got your little kangaroo, Jack, with ya, cap'n."  

Jo frowned  at Amandamus. Just because her nickname was Joey, she didn't have to

endure constant baby kangaroo references, now did she?  Besides, she hadn't even seen

that movie yet, though it was obvious the snail-plater had. Amandamus, however, was

quite amused with herself and went out to look for nose bubbles in a somewhat lighter

mood. 

She found Terry sitting on the rim of the fountain, still in full camo, and smoking in a

somewhat distracted manner. She noticed his equipment was shamefully  not well-tended.

She would remedy THAT situation soon enough, she would! Sitting beside him, she kissed

his cheek, making her lips, of course, greenish-black.  He didn't seem to notice that, though,

as he looked at her in some puzzlement.

"Amandamus, " he began in a voice so low she could barely hear, "I couldn't do it." 

She nearly fell off the fountain rim. THIS was serious! Never before had there ever been anything Terry couldn't do.  How untended HAD his equipment gotten, anyway, since

annsmac had gone off to New Orleans with that rather windy Bill fellow ...though

Amandamus was given to know that Bill was really just passing through and annsmac

would actually be glad when he was gone.  (What can I say...I still send the epis to my

former co-authoress and tropical storm Bill is buffeting her right now.)  Taking his hands

in her own, Amandamus leaned forward, staring into his troubled seagreen eyes. "What,

my dear? What WAS it you couldn't do?"
 

Shaking his head slowly back and forth, he murmured, "It was so awful, Amandamus....

so awful."

Her heart was pounding now, even more loudly it seemed to her than that large series of deafening *BOOMS* that seemed to be rising up through the earth itself from some inner

reach of the tallest of the Towers of Pain. 

"I c...c...couldn't....."

Oh, it was just too terrible to speak the words! Flinging her arms about his shoulders and pressing his nose tightly into her necklace made of dried starfish, she cried, "Oh, Terry,

Terry, Terry! You can tell ME!!!!"

Pulling back slightly and looking up at her concerned face there in the moonlight as he staunched the flow of blood from various nasal lacerations,  a single tear formed in his

right eye where all character tears first form. Saying this would be harder even than

watching that blonde woman drive down the green, green hill.

"Downtown," he whispered, then was incapable of further speech.

Downtown? What did he mean by that? "Did you go downtown, dear?" Amandamus asked

as gently as she could. He shook his head more rapidly as he stared at the ground under

his boots.

"What, then...what?" she prodded.

Raising his head, he looked at her with stricken eyes. "That's IT, don't you see! That's

IT!!!"

She didn't see, though, and now the ground booms were growing so loud she could hardly

hear anything else. She pressed her ear close to his cheek, her dried starfish earring dangerously nearing mole-removal, as he continued. "I was circling above the hacienda,

hanging onto the helicopter skid, intending to determine the numbers and locations of

penguin players (in K&R speak, of course).  Everything was going well. Zack was climbing

the banana tree near the portico. Alex had hidden in the pool cabana with his binoculars

trained on the roof. Egan was manfully scaling  the chimney breast. We were all talking

on our microphones and I was saying, Downtown One to Uptown Three and Uptown

Three replied to Uptown Two who asked Downtown Two to decoy the two players atop

the portico and Uptown One was saying something about flip sides and all of a sudden....

I couldn't do it." 

"What?" Amandamus fairly gasped, "WHAT?" 

He closed his eyes as he replied, "I couldn't remember if I was Uptown or Downtown....

it was......so....painful....so terrible." 

Amandamus was stunned. It WAS terrible, indeed!  "What did you DO?" she asked

breathlessly. 

"I...I needed a smoke. So I dropped off the helicopter skid, landing atop that hockey bloke

and his lady in the raised bed of glowing white petunias just as Lucilla arrived to enjoy the

sight of them to calm herself.

Amandamus' eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Well, let's leave it that there was a LOT of screaming and teeth gnashing and puck dismemberment.  So, as soon as I had brushed off most of the bent and twisted petunia

stems, I came here to the fountain to have my smoke....and think."

"And what are you thinking NOW?" Amandamus asked, a certain coyness creeping into

 her seemingly innocent, but not, question as her eyes rested in a rather brazen fashion

for a snail plater on his overly-untended equipment.
   

Meanwhile in the dining room, Susan Guildford was studying the large pan of chocolate

lasagna. Would she have a bit of that, or perhaps the sawdust ravioli? The salad made

entirely of uncooked broccoli stems was definitely out. How was she, a mere innocent

guest, to know that Lucilla had planned the menu around keeping everyone's appetite

up and running for the serving of the desserts? Were it not for the six moths floundering

in her cider, she would have drunk that and been content for the moment.

Ah...for the moment! The epi writer wondered, then, where Lachlan might be. Wandering

into the parlor, she saw the young pilot reclining on the purple fainting couch whilst Sarah busily stitched up the attractively-placed tears in his uniform, gotten as a result, you may

recall, from his perfect seven-point landing on the guanaco grazing lands. She started to

wonder why Sarah had not first removed the uniform before mending it....but it was soon

quite evident that Sarah was finding her unique way of repair more to her liking...for

reasons that would only lead to the typing of yet another "meanwhile" were we to

describe them.
   

 Zack still being up the banana tree, Susan then idled her way along the sidebar, studying

the intricate, web-like patterns Nash and Audrey had made with the white string they had entwined about the protruding gold-plated snail shells on the wall. If there had not been

quite so many post-a-notes, the whole effect could have been rather attractive. The mustard-glazed peacock eyeball with its adhered snail shell lifted into the air as she watched, and disappeared into nothingness. That Charles! He just DID follow Nash everywhere! She

was glad, though, for Jack's sake, that when Charles had taken a certain amount of cello

lessons he became visible. She smiled, remembering just how VERY visible he had been

in his Chaucer days. What a guy!
   

Out in the rose garden, Maximus and Juditha had been seated on the white glider for some

time now. Stroking the curve of her cheek with his index finger, he suddenly realized that

it had been days since he had eaten. "Juditha," he said softly in his deep, rumbly voice that caused such trembling happiness in her esophagus. "I'm feeling so lean and hungry. Have

I missed it...have I missed the dinner?" 

"Oh, Maximus, don't think me heartless, but I would just as soon not only miss the dinner,

but miss the party. In fact, I sent Johnny a while ago to bring you a bowl of gruel from

Lucilla's Westinghouse Gruel Maker that I noticed earlier in the pantry. He should be

back soon."

"How long has he been gone?" Maximus asked.

"Nearly two hours," she replied, hoping against all hope that Lucilla would not toss

Johnny's  head out into the rose garden.

Looking down at his hands, he tried to scrape off the last bits of nanogoo from his days of entrapment in Sid's lab. "You know, " he commented, "dirt cleans off a lot easier than

blue goo." 

Juditha frowned at the mention of Sid's name, thinking of how brutal and cruel and dark

he is. The booming was growing steadily louder and more frequent. "Maximus," Juditha

asked worriedly, "do you think Sid is doing something that will endanger the tallest of the Towers of Pain...not to mention the entire Fuegan estate?"

Maximus looked so serious there in the rose-scented moonlight as he replied, "I fear that 

it will not survive the winter."

Ah, how Juditha loved Maximus-speak!! Why, just 3 weeks ago she had imagined where

she would be....sitting in a rose garden with Maximus...and now it was so. Once in a great

while that principle of his actually seemed to work!!! More booms boomed.

"What is causing that, Maximus? she asked.

"We shall know soon enough, " he Maxilly replied.
  

As, indeed, we shall! For Sid was even now approaching the metal door of his lab as....

Part 38...by Annsmac

… as the epi was momentarily hijacked to some town named New Orleans in the great

state of Louisiana. Here we find that Tropical Storm Bill's wildly counter clockwise winds

had picked up something large, dressed in camouflage, with dark hair, a nice Australian

accent, and the most poorly attended … equipment ever seen these parts. And, lo and

behold, Bill had dropped said man right down where he belonged.

"Where did you come from?"

"From heaven. Where all good commandos come from."

"Bull. You are not from heaven. And I am not really sure I should even be speaking to

you. You were over there with BertiGreedy in that other area of Louisiana for way too

long, Terry. I think you might have liked it over there just a bit too much."

"No, annsmac, I swear. She had me locked in a room away from my …equipment and I

just couldn't get free to return to you from my mission. And, my Lord, she was working

such long hours! I was bored, I tell you."

"She … She …" annsmac gasped at the idea. "She … separated you from your …

equipment? How is that even possible that you survived such cruelty, Terry? How could

any woman possibly want to separate you from your … equipment?"

"Ask her yourself. She landed a few fields over and she's running around collecting Bud

and Zack."

"Oh, God. Look at your poor … equipment! It's in a shambles without my loving attention!

Oh, Terry, I could just weep!"

"Baby, rather than crying over spilt equipment, how about some good tending?" he asked,

his eyebrows waggling in that adorable commando way of his.

So, some equipment-tending was in order and soon … well, actually it took a while, but eventually Terry and his … equipment were in proper order. Later, as they went around annsmac's south Louisiana yard picking up all the trash and debris from Tropical Storm

Bill, Terry started finding the most unusual pieces of paper. He started muttering under

his breath. Words like Lucilla, TOFOG, concert, Golden Barge, Grecian Mary, raspberry

pies, Penny, brownies, Tierra Del Fuego,  Juditha, penguins, Amandamus, several Sue's

and Susan's, angels, milking stools, blue poppies …

"Blue poppies?" annsmac interrupted his muttering.

"Yeah. This has got to be …" Terry waved around the sheaves of paper and stomped

through the puddles still dotting the soggy après-Bill lawn. "… the most diabolically,

strange, perverted, impressive, creative, funny, only-one-person-I-know-could-possibly-

come-up-with-this-madness type of …"

annsmac jumped up and down. "It's an epi! An epi! A Joimus inspiration for sure! Oh,

how exciting. We must take part. Where are they and can we sneak into the plot?"

Terry eyed her, trying to judge if annsmac was ready for the bad news. Just then, Berti-

Wet came skipping through the storm damage with Zack and Bud at her side. His mind

made up, Terry figured he'd give it to them straight. "All right. Everyone take a seat and

listen to my briefing."

They all plopped down in the après-Bill water and turned attentive faces to Terry and

his … equipment.

"Right. Bad news in the epi is …" They all watched Terry. They all steeled themselves for

the bad news. But it was more horrid than they could imagine! "There's already a Terry,

Bud and Zack. There, I said it. Joimus has gone and done an epi and replaced us with

fakes."

A giant gasp ran through the group. Joimus! Never! Ever! Why, the next thing he'd be

telling them was that Joimus was not firmly attached to Maxie Baby's hip in some holodeck.

"There must be another explanation," BertiFaithful said. "Joimus must simply believe the others are real."

"Oooo. I know! I know!" annsmac said, jumping to her feet and splashing in the water.

"It's Sid! I bet he created that Terry, Zack and Bud -- just like he's probably trying to

create another Maximus. It's the only explanation."

"We need to warn them," Zack said.

"We need to save them," Bud said. "You know how cute that Joimus is. I mean, no way

I'm leaving a cute little lady like Joimus to deal with this on her own."

So it was agreed. They would all high-tail it to Tierra de Fuego. That's when annsmac had

an idea. "We'll use Bill. He owes me one, coming in here and ripping my yard to pieces

and ruining my day."

She put two fingers in her mouth, whistled a magic whistle and they suddenly heard the

roar of Bill blowing back across the land. Terry got his … equipment out, tossed it up

and hooked on to Bill's tail. He reached out his hand and swooped annsmac up into his

solid manly chest. "Stay here. I'll get the others," he told her with a nice, stormy kiss.

(hey, the benefits of being an epi writer are too good to pass up)

And before too long, they were all tucked aboard Bill and riding their way swiftly down

the world to … oh you betcha! They were dropping themselves right smack into the middle

of the epi … or maybe it was the tail end of the epi … or the beginning of the end of the

epi … or?

Ah, who knows? Who ever knows with an epi.

But one thing's for sure, their arrival did not go unnoticed. For no sooner did they alight

from their pet tropical storm, than …

 

Part 39 and last...by Jo

...Jo and Jack came rushing out of the hacienda to greet them. Jo, you see, was so glad to

see annsmac of the ever-uncapitalized-A actually joining in epi fun, that she did not even

mind that 3 of the main characters had turned out to be fakes. ...well, that is, if annsmac solemnly promised not to introduce Julia Roberts into the epi as was her wont. BertiBud

would not care in the least that all of Audrey's milking stool mania had been done with a Budalike.  Would Susan Guildford notice that the Zack who went up the banana tree

might not be the Zack who came down the banana tree? Or would there be two Zacks?

Were two Susan's from Wisconsin enough doubles to handle? What about Amandamus comforting that Terry on the fountain rim? Was Amandamus fully armed? When annsmac

was wet, she was known to be dangerous.

But....most impossible of all...how would Jo ever manage to convince them that Juditha

was with Maximus in this storyline? How could she ever get them to believe such a

stupendous thought that she, herself, was not constantly at the gladiator's side? It

boggled the mind!!!  She had, once, a long, long time ago back in Marseilles (See: The Russketeers) allowed BertiGoodOfTheMultipleName- Parts a brief tryst with the

Commander of the Felix Legions in the Tuscan garden holodeck....but much time had

passed since those days and never since had the General of the Armies of the North

been more than a step away from her side.  Jo understood their hesitation. Yes, she did.

A lot. She figured the only way to convince these doubting new arrivals was a brief

excursion to the regions of the rose garden where they might behold for themselves

the gentle wonders of a Maximus/Juditha match-up. Juditha was in the act of taking

the bowl of yukky grey gruel from the still-surviving Johnny.

Turning, she lifted it toward the gladiator, who smiled and said, "You risk much in

getting this for me." 

BertiWell rolled her eyes at annsmac, "Oh, crap! They're doing Maxi-speak! Wouldn't

ya know it! We turn our backs for 37 or so epis and she's got them running lines from

Gladiator!!!" 

"Yes," annsmac of the small a agreed, "it would seem we have gotten to Fuego just in

time!" 

But HAD they? Had they REALLY??? For even now, beneath their feet, the grass blades

in the lawn were curling up their toes (grass toes?) and preparing to croak. Things, you

see, were really heating up down Fuego way.
   

Sid had gotten to the metal door of his secret laboratory just as it started to bulge outwards

and begin to glow. He narrowed his eyes. This looked mighty suspicious. His entire

laboratory had become like the lid of a giant pressure cooker. Was that the distant laughter

of a boxkeeperish personage he faintly heard? Was there going to be some unforeseen

shift that would leave them all adrift and plotless? Well, there was...but not quite like that.

We were, you may note, all the way up to epi 39 and that had gotten way higher than

Audrey could count. Sooooo...whatever happens next...it is all the liberrian's fault. ALL

of it! Every bit!!
   

Susan 4.8 had joined Sid in the passageway outside the lab door. Her eyes widened and

she gasped, "Oh, Sid! It looks like it's going to explode!!!  Any minute!!!" As, indeed, it

was. Being still only a 4.8 on the evility scale, Susan turned and ran through the secret

entrance to the hacienda, shouting, "Flee for your lives!!! The goo is erupting!"

Russell, nearest to the entrance, still tuning his guitar, bellowed, "What the $%#&*@#

do you MEAN flee for your lives!! I haven't sung my songs yet!!!"

"Oh, Russell," Susan 4.8 said, almost out of breath, "if you do your concert now, all your

songs will be sung blue...for the goo IS coming!" 

Russell quickly gathered his band, loaded them into the black SUV's with the darkened windows, and as they were lowered down the wobbly rope ladders, shouted back up at

the stunned faces peering down from the edge of the ledge, "See you in Chicago!" and

then was gone.

The Bounty was gone, too. As was the Surprise/golden barge. The inflatable helicopter

would never inflate again. Lachlan's plane had 7-pointed itself to pieces.  What were

the CroweWomen and characters to do? Yes, Sue could fly with those black leather

wings...but she couldn't carry Cort with her and she wasn't about to leave him....so that

left her in the same boatless boat as the others.

By now all Lucilla's guests had gathered on the front lawn and were milling about,

wondering what to do. The ground was nearly too hot to stand on and Manilow had

melted all the way to his arch supports. It was lookin' BAD!
   

Fortified by the gruel, Maximus was his old self again. Even without their really being

time for him to sit down and push walnut shells about with broken arrows, a strategy

was forming in his commander's brain.

"Yes?" Jack spoke up. "Did you think 'commander' thoughts? I am, you must agree, the

only character present with the word 'Commander' in the title of his movie...right?" 

Maximus' eyes narrowed. This captain fellow might be a bit older than he was and

certainly had longer hair....but he was a Naval man and this situation called for troop

movement by land. Why, the bloke's movie hadn't even been released yet! How did we

really know how good he was? Didn't that remain to be seen come November? And

hadn't Gladiator been seen forty-leven times by every person in all of Crowedom and

beyond?  

Jo smiled. It was good to see her....er...Juditha's Maximus strong again. She tugged at

Jack's sleeve and whispered, "Jack, let's let the General take charge here a bit, OK? I

mean, he DOES outrank you and, well, you got to climb up ivied towers and all and he

got to be tortured. Let him have a turn?" She was so reasonable and so persuasive that

Jack agreed to, only for a while, be the second in command. Jo was proud of him. She

knew this wasn't easy for him...especially being older and all...and having made 3 more

movies than Maximus.
   

Maximus was already snapping orders and characters and people were scurrying to

and fro. The Peeps were stuffing what was important to them into individual backpacks conveniently stacked just to the right of the potted lime tree. There was no time to

change clothes, so each woman had to wear what she had chosen for the party (an

important future plot point, were there a plot). What was put into the backpacks

remains to be seen...but let us just reveal this...that Lucilla had dashed into her

kitchen and, wrapping pink non-stick Saran Wrap about several pies and a large

pan of brownies, stuffed them in her backpack, quickly closing its wide velcro fasteners.

There was, too, the golden flash of a disconnected-from-its-grower ponytail as it was

tucked into the depths of yet someone else's backpack. Biebe opened the cage doors of

all the Patagonian grey foxes and released the trained chipmunks from their holding

pens. The interior channel was filling with goo...the rope bridge had fallen into the

River of Doom and been swept away...there was no way down from the tallest of the

Towers of Pain except by the wobbly rope ladder...and the single basket had smashed

on the ice stalagmites far, far below.

Thank goodness Maximus knew how to move large masses of humanity quickly through

perilous passes. All differences were forgotten (well, for just a bit) as characters and CroweWomen, real, imagined, and/or fake made their way with great rapidity down

the long, swaying, wet ropes of the ladder. Hurrying to the guanaco grazing grounds,

now deserted by all living things but protagonists, the remnants a  7-pointedly- landed
plane, and scattered guanaco reminders......our intrepid band stood clumped together,

looking back for a moment as plumes of blue steam issued from the tops of both of the

Towers of Pain. All means of transport other than feet were gone.  They needed to leave

Fuego. Where would they go and how would they get there?

All eyes turned to the General. What was his plan? What strategy had he devised for

them now that they were haciendaless, Russell-less, and standing in the feeble first light

of dawn there on the wide guanaco lands as blue goo began to burble and threaten to

pour down the cliffs?

Maximus raised his voice so all could hear. "We must stay together, " intoned in

perfect Maximus-speak. "If we stay together, we survive." Whatever did he mean?

Especially that "if" part in front of the word "survive"???  WHY did we need to stay

together? Why might we NOT survive?

There was a collective gasp....***GASP***... as Maximus continued, "for we are going

to WALK from Tierra del Fuego to Chicago and be there in time to meet Russell at the

concert!" 

And so begins the tale of their trek....a trek without a star since Russell had driven off in

a black SUV...a starless trek! Turning his face north toward Lake Titicaca, Maximus

strode purposefully toward the Andes. Lucilla's backpack was heavy with pies and

brownies and...other things....as she gazed for one last time at her melting hacienda.

She wondered idly where all the penguins had gone. The sun rose over the rim of a

distant snowy peak. Buggie felt like Ayla, heading out for new places...new encounters.

Andrea began to sing The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Music as their path began

to lead them  upwards. North...always north...it was good Maximus was the General of

the armies of that direction, was it not? 

And, so, with party clothes and backpacks, our guests begin the adventure of THE

STARLESS TREK to Chicago. ...and, of course, they had only gone a short way

when.....
 

Jo (next epi will be Starless Trek # 1, ok? doesn't really have anything to do with what

you are thinking of as we already did that...is just the title...ya gots to have a title,

don'tcha??)

Starless Trek

LibrisCrowe