Comics by Shaenon II

~Desius

Being in close proximity to his Super-Ego, Des felt the feedback from Narbon kicking him//Zobot. Static hissed, as he felt the connection sever. He coughed, barely able to whisper as Narbon grabbed him and started to pull.
Voice was out, he couldn't get his voice loud enough to command. Through his connection to Ego, he could feel her iron determination to end it, now. No, Voice was out, he doubted even at full volume, he could overide her. No, Voice had to be subtle now. The Plan was falling, his Golden Path in jeopardy. Time for a backup.
He protested weakly, Narbon ignoring him.
Good, his fractured mind thought, running in tandem, probbing her hard over the network.
He layered subtle commands, Voice coming out in a whisper, overlacing her psyche, working his way into her subconscious. Hook here, command there, cut off access to memory on this, this, and this. He worked frantically, placing his pins deep into her.
A part of him was filled with glee as he felt the needle peirce skin. He wanted to laugh, a dusty maniacal laughter as the grand manipulator was manipulated in turn, glad for the paralysis. He forced feedback between them, dangerously close to the surface. He wondered if he was smiling.

"First, you will never harm me under any circumstances"

He could feel the command settle deep in his own psyche. It was... embedded deeper than he thought possible. No way to remove it. Not now, at least, not before he lost his connection. But plenty of time to settle the mirror image in her own subconscious. A risk he had to take. Linking himself with her, this closely, meant the link would carry over, even when he was Sane//normal[Access point unavailable]. Why she could drive him Mad, and not even know it. She would pick up stray thought from him, and he from her. He knew she couldn't harm him, like he couldn't touch her, but they would be drawn with a certain fascination back together, time and time again. He left the next command alone. She wouldn't bow to any authority but her own, no need to mirror a command she'd never obey. But the final...

"Finally, if you ever become a Mad Scientist, or otherwise have no authority figure above you, you will never, ever, ever try to double-cross, mislead, or betray me."

Right back at you, honey, he sneered in his mind, driving the mirror command into her subconscious. It was getting harder to think, the cotton wrapping his mind kept spreading, and he knew a fire was coming.
Underestimate me, You foolish lil...lil b@#$!, he screamed in his mind, You'll pay! You'll all pay!
Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-
He laughed until the fire swept his mind clear.

Connection///ego status: Complete.
Shuting dow----


"Bsuiehdw!" Des gurgled, as he screamed, his mind aching as he grabbed his head and bent over. A woman he had never seen before -Jane Narbon, his mind whispered unbidden- stood watching him coldly, a smile on her face. It stayed for a moment before she too started massaging her temple at the headache that seemed to have come from nowhere.

Tinker nodded absently at Chic and Wallace, eyes unfoucusing slightly.
He turned, now staring into a very *particular* section of empty space.
The change, to me, was tangible. Almost like music coming from somewhere far away.
The quick-beat of struggle, the harp and trumpet of inevitable triumph from a woman who never really loses, and under it a silky-sweet oboe that signified an 'I'll be back' ending.
I stood for a minute, enjoying my little symphony.

And then, I closed my eyes and sighed, returning my mind now to *my* story, my little place in the Pages in the great expanse.

"Of course, the kick of it all is that now I owe Jane Narbon a Favor." I said simply, smiling bemusedly.

"Truly a dangerous place to be. But then, It's probably high time we had a chat. She is a damnably *admirable* woman after all. Almost makes me wish I liked girls." I said cheerfully, crossing my ams over my chest.

"Really, she could drive you mad all over again." I whistle to Fredric, who alights on my arm, still sort of- well, humming.

I write a quick thank-you note on some good stationary I keep in my pocket, taking care to acknowledge that I owe her, and promise to keep Fredric away from her coat.

I gave the letter to Fredric, who speeds away through the air with it while I walk after Chic and Wallace.


Fredric swoops through the room, dropping the thank-you letter into Miss. Narbons hands.
"Hullo Lady Narbon! 's from Da. 'An 'e ay he'd like ta have tea sometime after all this is clear, yanno?" he say quickly, staying up out of range.

Even an indestructible flying rabbit knows to be scared of Narbon. He finds himself glad that Wallace gave him a shield.

That Guy woke again. "I must have been knocked out in the fight. Still something Desius said is burrowing into my mind."

"The whole death leave thing. He couldn't possibly know that I still have Dr. Jordan's transporter machine. He couldn't possibly know that I repaired it. He couldn't know what it does."

"But that didn't stop him from suggesting I use it." That Guy looks down onto the battlefield. "But they're done so I don't need to do it anyway."

Contented with this answer he turns away... only to see hundreds of Dans marching this way. "Oh no, oh no no no no. I can't. How do I know anyone will even find my body. How do I know that I'd even be able to help."

Then a voice came unbidden into his mind,"Do you think that you'd be of help now. You're not mad you wouldn't last five minutes out there."

"Huh, what." He thought, "I have to do it then. I feel that I'm being pushed, but I'll have to do it."

That Guy pulled machine parts from within his coat. He roughly assembled what looked like a chair trying to be a complex computer. "There, it will work," he thought as he set the dials. "After I leave, the TransDeanimator will disassemble itself."

He climbed into the chair and flipped the switch. With a small puff of light Thadeus's Anima left his body. Then...

He Died

A minute later his body lay on the grass, as the last of the machine slipped quietly into his coat.

"I am Lord Dave, member of the Dave conspiracy, and mad genius!"
*dramatic pause*
*Dane speaks up* "You're dating a Dave, Dana?"
"What?! No--he--we--we're not dating!! It was a ploy we set up so he could infiltrate the reunion! Geez!" *flushes*
"Now, Dane, start talking." *Dave readies ray gun* "Tell us everything you know about this virus."
"No."
"Do it or I'll shoot you."
"You don't fool me, you worthless Dave. You need my information. You shoot me, and any hope of stopping this virus is lost."
"We'll torture the information out of you, then."
"Good luck with that. I won't talk, no matter what you do."
"I think I know what'll change his mind, Dave." *grins evilly* "I grew up with Dane. I know everything about him. I know his favorite foods, his favorite colors...his deepest, darkest fears." *Dane blanches* "You see, Dave, Dane here has a deathly fear of Furbies."
*laughs* "Furbies?"
"There was an incident in a toy factory when he was about eight."
"Well, that's certainly helpful. I happen to have quite a large supply of them in my lair. Would you like to take your chances with the Furbies, Dane, or will you tell us what you know now?"

MEANWHILE:
*Uncle Dan peers through high-tech binoculars while speaking into two-way* "Izzat 'em? Do yer tink that's 'em, cuz? Wit' da red coat-thing and da guy wit' three arms and dat girl? Izzat 'em dat gots Timmy?"
"Yeh, dat's 'em, cuz."
"Let's go git 'em, cuz. CHARGE, Y'ALL!" *army of zombie meatloaf charges, followed by green goo and picnic-table monster, then a large group of Dan's holding donuts* "We're a-comin fer ya, Timmy!"

Thadeus slipped through the air. Funny how he everything feels so clear when you have no visual apparatus. It was almost as if part of his brain was unlocked. But he knew that wasn't true. The anima of an individual is responsible for the fact that humans only use a small percentage of their brains. They just don't have the anima for it.

"Well better get to work."

-------------------------------------

He slid into the mind of one of the Dans. "I'd better go with a patch for their madness. If they're latent it'll just stop them until they really go Mad, and if they weren't meant to be Mad then it will cover up their symptoms until they beat the disease." He wired shut the part of the Dan's brain that held his Madness.

"There, now for the rest of them."

WARNING! FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS SOAP OPERA CLICHED DRAMA, ANGST, AND CRUEL IRONY! READING POST MAY BE DANGEROUS TO YOUR HEALTH! STILL READING? WELL, DON'T SAY WE DIDN'T WARN YOU.

"Your brother is a wimp, Dana."
"Yeah, I know."
"He fainted out of fright after, what, a minute in the Furby chamber?"
*looks at stopwatch* "Forty-two-point-three-one-four seconds." *laughs* "I'm sure when he wakes up, he'll be begging to tell us everything he knows."
"We make a pretty good team, Dana. This allying thing was a great idea."
"You really think so?"
"Sure. We've already infiltrated a Dan meeting, unleashed an army of newfound Mads on our enemies, and we've almost obtained the information we need to stop that virus that's making everyone go mad."
"You're right. Together, nothing will be able to stop us." *suddenly, the chill of Cruel Irony descends upon the room* "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"That chill...it felt like an ominous and foreboding plot device."
"I didn't feel anything. Maybe it's another symptom of your headache or something." He's probably right. I'll bet I was just imagining it. *Dave's cell phone rings* "Hang on a second, Dana, let me get that." *opens phone and speaks to man on the other line* "Who is this? ...Sir, it's an honor as always...No, I'm not busy, sir...Yes, I did, sir...Why, thank you, sir...Really, sir? Me? Are you sure...Thank you so much, sir, I would be honored to participate in such an endeavor...Oh...of course I understand, sir. We can't let this kind of information leak out, after all...I'll leave right away, sir. Thank you again...Good-bye, sir."
Oh, no. I feel it again. That inescapable sense of dread. Something is wrong here. "Dave, who was that? What did he want?"
"That was a messenger of the Dave Conspiracy. They were quite pleased with my work at the reunion."
"That's great, Dave."
"That's not all they said, Dana. They want me to head a research project at Dave Headquarters. And...I'm not allowed to contact you because of your connections with the Dan Alliance."
"What? You're leaving? Now? Just like that?"
"I'm sorry, Dana. I have to go."
"No, you don't! Just quit the Conspiracy!"
"I can't."
"Yes, you can! I did! If I can quit, so can you!"
"You don't understand, Dana. The Conspiracy means everything to me. If I am anything else, I am a loyal Dave. I'm going. I'm sorry."
"You know what?! Fine, go! See if I care! Go to your stupid Conspiracy! You Dave's are just as bad as the Dan's, and the Steve's, and the Ulysses's! All you care about are stupid names!"
"Dana, please don't be mad at me. You can have my lair, if you want, and everything in it. The Dave's are going to give me a new one anyways. Use it for whatever evil plan you want."
"I don't want your stupid lair! I don't want your stupid Furby dolls! And I don't want to see your stupid face again, you stupid Dave!" *storms out of lair dramatically*

*later, at the bus station, standing in the rain that oh-so-conveniently appears within an overly emotional scene*
Should've figured he'd think that dumb Conspiracy was more important than me. They always do.
(The Dave Conspiracy has wronged you.) I don't know who's talking right now. This isn't President Grant, or Zarquon, or any of the Megalogical Rocket Society speaking. I've never heard her voice before. But she's right. They have wronged me.
(You will make them wish they had never crossed you. You will get your revenge. You can do whatever you want. And nobody will be able to stop you.)
(You're right. I will make them pay.)
*ominous thunderclaps, followed by cliffhanger ending*

*p.s. If you've managed to read this far, you will probably have to go to the emergency room for soap opera overdose. My sincerest apologies.*
*p.p.s. Farewell, Dave, from the Mad Scientist Wars. We shall not forget you (since, you know, you're not leaving the forums and we'll see you every time you make a post) and you shall have wonderful cameos from time to time. I hope you enjoyed your climactic exit scene.

~Willie

Willie stumbled as he ran. Something happened to the Dans. He was outclassed. He lost.
"I reckon they'll all pay," he sniffed moving away from the battle. "They ain't seen the last o' ole' Willie yet!," he laughed, a braying donkey like sound. He had noticed the family seemed like they were before they all changed. Then the Dans had started to fall down, spasming and becoming normal again, so Willie booked before he was next.
"I reckon I wish I could shake this felin' I plum fergot sometin." Willie muttered as he escaped.

~Timmy

"H-hello?" Timmy shouted, still tied up.
"I's not funny now!"
" 'ELP!"

As I watched the advancing army of Mad Dans, some of them seemed to pause, look around, and then stop walking with looks of utter confusion on their faces. As for the rest... yes, I knew I made two of those things for a reason.

I pulled out the other glass globe, and threw. The sphere shattered in front of the Dans. In seconds, all were down on the ground.

I turned to Tinker, chicgeek, and all the rest of my temporary allies, most of whom looked quite battered (or bent, in a few cases.) A spontaneous cheer erupted when I said

"C'mon. Let's all go home."

~~~


On the way to everyone's respective lairs, I explained about the virus, and why most people would be back to normal in a few days or so. All of them listened intently, with the possible exception of Jane Narbon, who by that time was fighting to control a monstrous headache. I'm still not sure who was the most glad to be back safe in their lair.

Probably me. Prime's still not back to full capacity yet, and I seem to remember stashing the Level II backup in the Abandoned Cemetery. At any rate, the world is safe once more. The city will rebuild. And I now know that I should try to avoid doing good works. It's ever-so-slightly addictive.

And we all know where that leads...

~~~~~

The Martian lay behind the drain pipe, his mind sparking. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow he felt smarter. He kept thinking up ideas for new inventions.

The first thing he would have to do would be to find better shelter. His suit had a long supply of water, and he could breathe Earth's air safely (having already survived SoItBegins's virus.) In his mind, a possibility unfolded. If he could reconfigure his energy gun (which he didn't really have a use for any more) into a tool to dig with, then he could dig a rudimentary cave to sleep in. Then, to find food and carve out an existence on this new planet.

It would be hard. But worth it.

~~~~~

Willie ran for his life, dodging one cluster of new Mads after another. By now, his good day had gone bitter. Out of ideas, out of ammo, and out of breath (so to speak), he slumped down into a mostly-intact park bench, not noticing the older woman sitting on the bench next to him.

"Need help, dear?"

"YES!" yelled Willie, feeling panic set in like cement. He quickly gabbled out his entire day to the woman, who seemed to take it all in stride.

"Well, you just come with me, dear, and we can get this all sorted out," said the woman after a pause, taking his wrist. Willie was quite glad to follow along. Then, a sudden thought came to him.

"By th' way, mah name's Willie. What's yours?"
"Ileen, dear. Ileen Jacobs."

End of Part 8

Part 9: The Mad Scientist Awards

Several Weeks Later

The city had (mostly) rebuilt. The crisis was over. And I had sent the invitations. I had become the Regional, Dimensional, and Portaling Co-ordinator for the year's upcoming 3-day-long Mad Scientist Convention and Awards Ceremony, a name that was usually just shortened to The Mad Scientist Awards. I was also handling the security. Hopefully, with Prime and a small army of nanobots on call, this year would go a lot better than last year (Attempted hijacking of awards ceremony by a Dr. Dyram Risk. Event devolved into a giant battle among the attendees), or the year before that (Ceremony invaded by ravenous Jägermonsters. Event devolved into a giant battle among the attendees), or indeed the year before that (Attempt to hijack ceremony by League of Giants. Event devolved et cetera). Or, come to think of it, every year except 1951 (the Mads went on strike that year).

So, this time, I was handling the important details. I had sent out all the invitations, I had set up the space, and I would keep the convention secure this year for a change.

It would be great.

Now, to see about getting the Level II backup of Prime out of the Old Cemetery...

Aahhh, there's nothing like relaxing in your own bed, taking a few days off... then returning refreshed and restored, ready to plot new nefarious methods of someone else's undoing. It's a strange thing, though, but there's been a voice running around in my head the entire time. The problem with that is that it vanishes every time I try to make out the words. I can only hear the tone. And for some reason, it sounds strangely familiar.

MMM, mm mm MMmm Mmm mm mm-mm MM-MM Mm-mm-Mm-mm.

Suddenly, the voice snaps into sharp focus as my memory dredges up a snippet of me saying something with those exact same tonal gradations.

... "First, you will never harm me under any circumstances."

...only in my head, it's in Desius's voice. Another memory plays before me unbidden.

"Voices, we know them and listen. I read them, let them out."

Desius speaking. #*$m. Somehow, he must have managed to reverse the link, so the commands I fed into him were also being linked back into my mind as well. Now what did I say?

1. Never harm me.

This'll be easy to get around. I can just convince someone else to harm Desius instead, if I ever need to.

2+3. Obey me under these circumstances.

Odd, I don't feel anything matching this one in there. I'm not sure if it wouldn't have fallen to my willpower, anyway.

4. Never betray me.

Then I won't betray him, for now. And in the mean time, I guess I'll just have to work on my strength of will.


Now that I've got that resolved, it's back to-- *bing* Aha! I have mail. Let's go see what's outside, shall we?

When I opened the mailbox, I immediately had to jump to the side, as a tree-trunk of flame spat out of the mailbox, nearly extended to a length of three feet, then vanished. I peered in, a little skittishly. Inside was a large quantity of ash, and a scrap of paper.

The paper read

"P.S: This invitation has been sent with a quantity of explosives. The current section of this letter, and only this section, has been explosion-proofed. In the event that you are unable to read the rest of the paper (possibly due to a spectacular explosion), please contact Guest Services at (555) MAD-AWRD."

Oh. The awards invitation is here then, or what's left of it. I guess I'll have to call and get a new one sent. Also, there's devices to invent, people to message, and my Awards dress to pick up from Claire's shop. I'm sure I'll have a great time at the Mad Scientist Awards. A truly great time.

Heh heh heh.

"Woohoo!" I shout, giggling as I turn back to my machine. Lights flashing, bristling with deadly titanium blades, it started to hum as visciously sharp needles began to appear.
Desius looked tolerantly on at the new death machine. Mads and their toys...Wait a minute, there was something almost familiar in it's configuration. It reminded him of....
"Is that a...sewing machine,Chic?"
"Beats my mother's 40 year old singer," I add absently, remembering. Back then, if I wanted fashionable clothes, I had to make them myself.
"And when shall we be storming city hall with this, maddam?" Desius adds dryly.
"Oh, hush. I have the lovliest outfit all planned out. I want to look my best. Besides, half of city hall got lost in N-space last week, don't you remember?"
"Ah yes, I had a devil of a time making it to class on time that night. And we must look our finest for the awards, must'nt we?"
"Umhmm, that too." I reply absently,smiling.

Des noticed, but forbore teasing her.

"Keep an eye on experiment three-let me know when it starts shifting. And there's something new I want to add to the zeppelin, too.We'll get to that later."Sighs happily."My wings'll be ready in no time,now."

Sighs."They were done days ago-when you made your breakthrough. Honestly, will you ever quit tweaking them?"

The breakthrough. I've finally done it. Liquid clockwork, the metal softening, flowing-- turning from silky to rigid and any state between at a thought. I ignore Desius as I privately gloat.

"We need to plan your outfit,too. I am NOT showing up with a shabbily dressed henchman."
He bristles, like I knew he would.
"Shabby? Me? Why-" Hee. Des does have a sense of style, I'll admit.I blitheley cut him off."And besides, there's the best henchman award,too. You'll be in the running this year, you know."

"I-"

Chic notices Des smiling, but forbears teasing him.

Later, Des sighed as he fought the coffee machine to a standstill. It burbled a question at him, sending a puff of steam his way.
"What? No. I'm not upset. I'm just... well, distracted."
The coffee swirled, lightning flickering as he poured Chic a cup, "Since, well, that day. You know the one I told you about where I lost half the day and woke up with Miss Narbon."
THe coffee puffed steamed menacingly at her name.
"Oh, hush you. She's not as bad as they make her out to be. I mean she didn't kill me or experiment on me or anything. I got the impression she was there to rescue me. And she was rather polite, and I swear we had some sort of connection there, I could finish half of what she was saying before she did."
Des poured a second cup, sipping gently. Ever since then he had a periodic craving for Chic's brew. He found it soothing, and the lightning did wonders for a pick me up when he was feeling lethargic. Though his hair had been rather wild lately. "I just... well, its the strangest thing. Every now and then I just can't help but think of her. I swear, I can hear her thoughts sometimes, She thinks of me too. Generally followed by massive irritation, but..." he trailed off.
The Coffee machine burbled another question at him.
"What!" Des said spitting out his coffee, "I'm not, I don't have any crush on her!"
"Are you mad?"
The coffee machine hissed happily, sloshing the coffee around in its globe.
"I don't know why I tell you these things." Des said shaking his head wiping clean the mess. "Anyways, Chic is going to be wanting her coffee any minute, now."
The coffee burbled. "I know because, you could say I've gotten better at reading her."
Chic yelled down. "Desius, could you put on a pot? This might be a long night."
"See?" Des smiled at the machine, "Comin' Madam," he answered back, placing her cup and the pot on a tray, and moving from the kitchen.

"So, you're sure about this?" I look down at the Creamy-Iceomatic 4200, which whirs and churns, just as it always does.

"Absolutely, sir. My...scanners detected several of them during the evening, while you were in sleep mode. This may have been going on for a lot longer than that, but now I have proof."

I sigh, and sit back down, facing my machine. Normally I wouldn't close the store on a Saturday, but if there is indeed something wrong with the primary tool of ONE of my trades, I need to be sure of it. Although in all likelihood it's just the arm's scanners acting up again. I thought I had fixed them up after they failed that day when that odd dead man went flying through my window, the day that I can't remember much of and it asserts it couldn't detect anything, but I could have screwed up.

After a few minutes, our patience is rewarded, as a petite fairy begins to pull itself out of the nozzle of the Iceomatic. Giggling, it starts fluttering around us, sprinkling fairy dust all over. The arm points a finger at me. "See? This unit was right! The ice cream maker is producing erratic things after all!"

I push my glasses back up the slant of my nose, trying to make sure what I'm seeing is accurate. "But...but...Fairies aren't REAL!" Suddenly, the fairy gasps and clutches its little chest, falling to the floor.

"Err...you may wish to watch what you say around such things, sir."
"Well, I wasn't expecting THAT! Is it dead?"
"This unit is detecting faint, but growing, biosigns. It will likely recover."
"Good. First things first, we need to take the machine off line and dismantle it."
"Sir? Dismantle a creation?" I think my arm looks horrified, although I'm not entirely sure how I know that.
"If it's malfunctioning, then it needs to be fixed or destroyed. But I don't know how to fix something like this, so it gets scrapped."
"But what about your business?"
"We're still in the action science business, (even if no one's taken us up on that part of it yet.) and we'll just have to find another way to make ice cream. I don't want a device that randomly spits out sprites, that would just be irresponsible."

The phone rings, and I reach over to pick it up. After a short conversation, I grin and look over at my metallic partner. "However, finding a new means of production will have to wait. We've got our first job for the OTHER side of my career. I've been hired to infiltrate this year's Mad Scientist Convention and Awards Ceremony, which is conveniently being held in our town. Apparently these things usually end pretty badly, and our employers want to prevent any carnage from spilling over and affecting the city."

Wally turned to Lagos, looking her up and down. Well, mostly back and forth, but the point stands. "Where have you been? I was worried about what was going on, and you refused to tell me more than that you were fine. And now you're home past curfew! What do you have to say for yourself young lady?"

"First off, that curfew was just you saying not to be gone for more than two weeks. I don't think that actually counts as broken if I'm back after midnight on the last day. Second, I told you where I was. I was hiding in the corporation's ventilation shafts, gathering information. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go compile some stuff."

"Not yet you don't. As punishment, you have to get the mail."

"That's the punishment? Whys that so bad?"

"Because the postman looks like he's been through hell, and he's wearing the special Mad Scientist Package suit."

"Oh, the invitations are out today, aren't they. I guess it's up to me to fight off or survive whatever is out there."

"And try not to mess up the paper too much, as I don't want to get lost again."

"Fine, fine, go have fun while I work my butt off."

"So you want a new one already? I thought that one would last a year or two."

"Bite me." Lagos walks out the door, and goes to open the mail box. Wally returns to his seat, and continues work on some extra attachments. After a minute or so, Lagos comes crashing back through the window, which flickers and reforms behind him. A second or two later, a large paper creature crawls after him, only to be shot in between the eyes with a rail gun. Twitching, the letter falls to the ground, and begins to fold itself up. Lagos picks up the letter and skims it, confirming what it says. "Alright Wally, looks like we're invited. Got any plans?"

"Yeah, I've got plenty of plans. This twill be fun."

"What are you doing here, Alice?"
"I have to show you something. Come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"But why-"
"We don't have any time to waste. We're very late, you know."
"But I-"
"Just follow me!"
"...Alice, what's that noise?"
"What noise?"
"That awful noise. It sounds like a-"

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*
Ow. Stupid emergency alarm. Keeps waking me up. What's the emergency this time, then...
/Plasma leak detected in cloning tank 2./
Oh, no. "Ingrid!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"We've got a leak in clone tank 2! I need you to fix it, stat!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Man, we can't afford another broken cloning tank. This is the third time this week it's been leaking. If that clone is damaged, we'll have to start all over again.
*doorbell rings*
"Ingrid, could you get that?"
"I'm a little busy at the moment, ma'am!"
"Fine. I'll get it." *opens door* "Yes?" It's the mailman...and a pair of police officers. I wonder what they want.
*police officer speaks up* "Excuse me, ma'am, but are you, by any chance, familiar with the Mad Scientist Awards Committee?"
"Yes, indeed I am."
"Well, you see, yesterday a mailman came to us with this letter, frantically claiming it was a bomb. We were skeptical at first, but when our bomb dogs were inspecting it, a large group of tiny robotic spiders began attacking anyone within sight."
"Is that all? The Committee must be losing their touch. Where is the letter? Give it to me, please."
"Ma'am, I don't think you're taking this seriously. The letter appears to be dangerous and-"
*in a deadly and menacing tone* "Give. Me. The. Letter."
*policeman hands over letter* "Yes, ma'am." *frightened, the three run away as quickly as possible*
*slams door and faces Ingrid, who is covered in plasma and elbow grease* "Good news, Ingrid. It seems the Committee has sent us an invitation."

Ah, how sweet to be back home. Back with my books, and my dressing gown and bubble pipe. (I don't smoke, and the image is fun)
I made sure to send Miss Chic home with the Machine-Vine, on the promise that she sends me a sample once it's grown.

I'm relaxing this morning, having finished grading the term papers my students sent in. Funny thing, I could swear I was missing something. . . .

"Hey Da, I got th' mail for ya. The post man looked sorta frazzled, tho'." Fluffy says, swooping in to deposit a pile of mail in my lap.

"That's because you tried to eat his hat, remember?" I say mildly, sorting through the mail.

Suddenly, the letter in my hands unfold wings made of paper and flies off, zipping around the room.
Oh, dear! The Awards!

"Fredric, would you?" I say, leaping to my feet and sorting through the rest of my letters.

As Fredric gleefully hunts down the letter, I find the letter I knew would be there, just like last year, and the last, and the last.

A plain white envelope, addressed to 'Prof. T' from 'M'.
The M Division, a section of the government dedicated to minimizing the damaged caused by Mad Scientists staffed by those foolish enough to volunteer, those good enough to be press-ganged in, and a few hyper-intelligent shades of Purple.
I, like my father before me, am their Mad Scientist Liaison.
Mostly I just give them advice, toss them a few inventions now and then, and undertake a few mission a year. One of these being to attend the Awards to try and contain the mayhem a little.

Hmm, my favorite had to have been the Jägermonsters. Let's just say Fluffy';s hat-eating tactic was a big 'hit'.
And well, last year-

My thoughts crash as I read the letter M sent me. Apparently, this year they hired some help.. . . from Toboz!. Hmm, I wonder is he knows who his 'senior agent' is.

Oh, well.
" I Got it! I Got it! Thoughtcha could beat me this year, ey? Notta bloody letter alive c'n out-fly ME! Wee hee hee hee!" Fredric cries triumphantly, bringing the letter to me.

"Well done Fredric, now come along. We Have some preparing to get done! I need to work out an outfit, you need a bath, I need to figure out what to wear, I need to get you a new collar, AND I need some proper clothes!" I cry triumphantly, leaping back to me feet and putting my hands on my hips.

"Get off the chair, Da,"

"Righto! We haven't a minute to loose!" I say happily, leaping off the armchair to bound to my Closet, which is in a pocket universe I had installed next to my bedroom.
So many choises. . . . I wonder could I pull of. . . ?
Oh, yes. Indeed. It's time for *that* one.

"hee hee hee! Heh. heh heh heh haHa ha haHAA HAA HAA HAAAAAA-MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Hmm, it's a good thing I have a henchman to do all the little things around here. Like getting the mail, for example.
Desius's reflexes are better than I thought. Oh, he ended up looking like a cartoon villian after he's been given an exploding cigar, (hee hee) but no real harm done.
The mecha-vine was exactly what this place needed. We're getting on fabulosly. It's quite responsive, for a plant. It will make getting that cutting a bit tricky,hmm.
Perhaps I'll have Tinker over for tea, and let him do it, on the grounds that he's the botanist. Perfect-I'll flatter him by asking, and won't have it mad at ME!
Oh, I love my outfit-a gown I could never buy off the rack. Stockings that won't run,tear,or snag-strong enough to function as light armor, and sheer enough to be-heh,heh,heh. Arms redesigned with my new alloy-they look exactly like long elegant gloves now, with no loss of function.
And I do believe I'm proudest of the accesories. No one else will be wearing anything like it, I know. Lovely and scientific!
And high heels that won't make me loose my balance or hurt my feet, that I could run in if I want-that are still sexy as all get out.

And they said it couldn't be done! The fools! Ha.Ha.HAHAHA BWAHAHAHAHA!!!

Ah, so everything is falling into place. I review the text of the invitations that were sent. Let's see:

~~~~~~~~~
To: (name goes here)
From: Mad Scientist Awards Committee

You are cordially invited to the 129th

Mad Scientist Convention and Awards Ceremony

to be held in the multidimensional Lost Worlds convention center on

(date).

The convention will take place for three consecutive days (see enclosed schedule), culminating in the awards ceremony on the evening of the third day. The awards ceremony is formal dress ("black tie") only.

The convention center will be accessed by multidimensional portal. The location of the portal nearest you can be found on the map on the reverse side of this letter.

You may bring with you up to four (4) henchmen, assistants, or other persons you deem suitable. Each additional person must carry one of the enclosed Pass Cards on them at all times. If you need to bring more people, additional Pass Cards may be attained by calling Guest Services ((555) MAD-AWRD).

Hope to see you there!

Signed,

SoItBegins
Regional, Dimensional, and Portaling Co-ordinator
129th Mad Scientist Convention and Awards Ceremony

In addition to this letter, you should have received:
1 Convention Schedule
1 List of Rules
4 Blank Pass Cards

We are not responsible in any way for any damage or trauma incurred by or against you or others.

~~~~~~~~

That's everything! I am glad I reviewed it before I sent the invites out-- Prime typed it up, and it doesn't understand all human expressions yet. 'Black tie' was originally 'Fancy dress'. You can imagine I edited that in a hurry!

Now, I've got the space arrangements set up, and I just have to work on the security. My idea for the security system came from an unrelated stroke of insight. It is this: If you don't contain them, nanobots get everywhere. That means, everywhere. Normally, I keep the bots in check by giving them an aversion to air (so they only stay inside objects, and thus can't be transmitted by touch or through the atmosphere.) Here, I would impose a limit on bot reproduction, thus letting the things create an effective presence without introducing the possibility of the entire convention ending up as a roomful of gray goo. This, of course, doesn't even cover the other security measures in force.

Soon, the 129th convention will begin. This time, it will be truly peaceful.

I hope.

"I've never been to the Mad Scientist Awards before! I'm so excited! Let's see, I'll want to pack some ray guns, a few sonic distorters, maybe even a mutagenic virus..."
"What about your dress, ma'am?"
"...A dress? What do I need a dumb dress for?"
"You're not honestly considering wearing that lab coat to the awards ceremony, are you, ma'am?"
"Why not?! Lab coats are very in this season!"
"The ceremony is black-tie only, ma'am. You have to wear a dress."
"I do?"
"Yes."
"I hate dresses."
"I'm quite aware of that, ma'am."
"SoItBegins shall pay for this humiliation."
"Of course he will, ma'am."

Let's see, I've bathed Fredric (with no end of kicking and english swear words, not to mention one memorable soapy chase about the bathroom- thank the Saints for butterfly nets) until his fur and feather positively *shines*, and my outfit. . . .
my outfit is... magnificent. I shant be bested in my particular blend of flamboyance, science, and elegance this year by God!

Now I just need to get Fluffy a collar. It's *so* hard to find something that properly accentuates black-and white fur *and* white feathers, not to *mention* a red eye and a green eye. . . . uff. I should have re-considered using my own Dna.

"Alright, so I think we've narrowed it down to these two models. . ." I say thoughtfully, before Fredric (who is usually uninterested in the process) looks up at me from his cushion.

"Uh, Da? I sorta. . . I sorta had 'n Idea about my collar. . ." he say hesitantly, looking unsure of himself.

"Really? Anything, dear-heart!" I say happily, giving him my full attention.

"Oh, bloody hell Da, 's'not that big a deal.. . . But I mean, yanno. . . I was watchin' TV-"

I snort slightly.
"Like you do anything *else* when I'm gone?" I say flippantly, causing him to roll his eyes and pointedly ignore me. Hmm, he's so *cute* in his teenager stage!

" An' I was kinda thinkin', meybbe i could wear summat with spikes? I mean, not black cause tha's the color of my markin's but mebbe summat tough like that?" he says, a sort of nervous hope coloring his voice.

I think, a smile slowly creeping over my face.
"I think that that would be *perfect*! Spikes, ey? I believe that one of the baby GRUES lost his baby teeth, and Shelly just shed yesterday!" I say happily, leaping to me feet.

"Come Fredric, we have work to do!"

That fairy that emerged from my ice cream machine has recovered, and now it won't leave. Whenever I turn my back at it it starts messing with stuff around the shop, and when I try to chase it out of here it just flutters up to the ceiling, where I can't reach it. I can't even reason with it: the only sounds that come from its tiny mouth sound like heavenly bells or chimes. At least it doesn't seem angry, just... curious.

With a sigh, I look down at the invitation my employers sent me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To: GUEST
From: Mad Scientist Awards Committee

You are cordially invited to the 129th

Mad Scientist Convention and Awards Ceremony...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It goes on to talk about other stuff.
"I'm surprised you didn't get invited yourself, Sir." My metal arm has once again decided to speak up.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm no Mad, just a freelance warrior of justice and scientific progress! Personally, I'm glad that my employers got a ticket. It means I won't have to try and sneak in."
"I would have thought that such an event would be Mad and Henchmen exclusive."
I grin. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? They explained it to me over the phone. See, even before you factor in the damage and destruction that such an event occasionally brings with it, there's apparently a huge overhead for these "convention" thingies. So to help make a profit, apparently they sell tickets to Non-mads who want to attend. The convention part isn't exclusive, there's just no guarantee that anyone going won't be kidnapped, mutated, or disintegrated while they're there. The only part of the event that's Mad-only is the awards ceremony at the end."
The arm curls and uncurls its over sized metal fingers. "Hmm."
"Anyway, it's one hurdle I don't have to jump now. The big issue is disguising myself. If I'm going to potentially get between Mads and causing carnage, I need to keep them from having a target to go after once the conventions over."
"Hiding yourself from a Mad might be difficult, sir. You'd need some kind of holographic patterning device..."
I chuckle. "Which I haven't the faintest idea how to build! But I DO have a plan for that. See, I've been-" I stop when I feel my hair being pulled on. I spin around and point at the offending party. "BAD FAIRY! I do NOT want my hair braided! Leave it alone!" The fairy's faint blue glow turns to an intense red as it chimes at me and then flutters off to start playing with my stapler some more. I turn back to what I was doing. "Anyway, I've been researching popular culture, since I don't remember any of it, and I found out that a lot of people who attend conventions "cos-ply," which is apparently dressing up in a costume of some sort.
"Err...this unit does not believe that this is that sort of event..."
"It's the perfect plan! I even already got a costume from one of the stores around here. Check it out!" I get out the costume and hold it out. "It comes with fake colored contact lenses and wash-out hair dye!"
The arm remained silent for a few seconds. "You won't be able to fool anyone if you walk in dressed like that, especially with a giant robotic arm."
"I know...which is why you won't be coming with me."
"Err-Error?!?"
I sigh. "I've already made arrangements for a more convincing prosthetic. All the rental one will have to do is lay at my side and look believable. Don't be too sad, it's only for a few days."
"Sir, this is ill-advised. How will you defend yourself?"
"I've got it covered! The costume ALSO came with this sword, see?"
"...Scans reveal that weapon to be made of dull plastic. Addendum to previous statement: What if sir encounters a Mad who knows his face?"
I smirk. "That's why the costume ALSO comes with this nifty mask!" I put it on. "See? Although it does make my voice sound funny."
The arm starts venting steam, which sounds almost like it is sighing. "This disguise will fool any Mad lacking a DNA scanner, or the ability to probe thoughts, or a voice detector, or some sort of animal companion, or-"
I roll my eyes. The arm worries too much. How many of those could there be?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside the base/ice cream shoppe of David Toboz, within his mailbox, a letter containing an invitation was ticking. After a short time of not being touched, it imploded, pulling the mailbox, a chunk of dirt and grass, and a family of surprised bunnies in with it, collapsing into a tiny singularity no larger than an atom. Evidently, Professor Zobot was not going to be RSVPing this year...

Desius stumbled, twisting as he hit the ground, gun coming up and firing wildly. Bolts of lightning slammed into the clockwork maw, knocking the beast backwards, slamming it into the wall.
"Move, MOVE," he thought, pulling himself to his feet as the mechanical claws came closer.
He pulled himself through the doorway, "Almost there," he thought, "almost home-free." From above him, a clockwork monstrocity struck with a cold precision. Driving him heavily to the ground, holding him securely, metal bands locked around his arm as another clockwork beast came and together drug him back into his own personal hell.
"Hmph," Chic pouted as her clockwork machinces drug her henchman back. "Quit being such a baby, it's only a fitting."
"Ma'm?" Des said eyeing her as he was securely strapped to the table.
"You musn't disgrace me at the awards, you ARE my henchman after all. I don't see why you're acting like this."
"Can't I just wear a butler's uniform or something."
She tisked at the burn marks around the labs, shaking her head at the carnage. "You're such a baby about this, you want to look good don't you? Haven't you seen my dress?"
"Yes ma'm," Des blushed slightly, testing the binds on one hand. "Most stunning, lovely, a work of genius, I dare say everyone is going to fall over stuned."
"Oh you," Chic giggled, moving back to her station.
"Now let me work up a nice flattering... Des?" Chic looked at the empty table. Des was already halfway across the room. She sighed, shaking her head as her clockwork beasts bounded off after him, "You ARE getting better at this."

Wally straightens his tie, and turns to Lagos. "So what do you think?"

"Wally, I think you went overboard. The mechanical attachments and third armhole are good, but I don't think you're a good enough tailor to make it yourself. Why don't you go pick up a suit and get it tailored to fit you?"

"Lagos, you know we don't have enough in the budget to cover that. I still have all that credit at the widgets and gadgets store, but anywhere else we're as good as broke."

"Did I ever say we should buy the suit?"

"Oh..."

Wally walks into the local tuxedo store, juggling three objects. He turns to the store clerk and says, "Sir, I'd like a suit for an upcoming event. I'm a mad scientist and just made these three grenades this morning. To be honest, I haven't the faintest clue what they do. If you make me a suit, I'll wait until I'm far away to test them, capise?"

The Final adjustments to The Suit were ready.
I had set aside time to go and pick it up personally, as I quite enjoyed chatting with my personal Tailor. Wonderful man.

The shop was in the fashion end of town, in between a bistro and a high-end cloth warehouse. It was easy to miss if you didn't know what you were looking for.
There were a few examples of the mans work in the mirror, a shimmering blue dress that looked as light as air, a black suit that neatly faded into the shadows around it, and a beautiful wedding dress that was embroidered in such a way that it drew your eyes ever to it, the white fabric shining softly with the tiniest amount of light.
The name above the store was simple, as it was both the store and the mans name.
'Tailor'

As I walked inside, the bell above the door jingled slightly, causing something to make a thunk noise in the back.

"Ah, Mr. Tinker. here for your suit." Tailor said, strolling in from the workroom into the showroom.
He is a tall, slender man, with sort of lacquer-red hair that he keeps neatly sewn into a neat ponytail. He is pail enough to rival any mad Scientist, of german descent, and due to a particular genetic quirk in his family due to his great-grand father having been a henchman, he has one thumb and eight fingers on each hand.
They are very slender, so it's easy to not notice. They are what make him a genus at sewing.

"I'll be out with it in just a moment. Lovely design, may I add. A bit tricky to work with, but I assure you it is perfect." he says bluntly, handing me a large, slender box.

"Of course, Tailor. I can;t thank you enough."

He smiles thinly. "So long as you leave that cloth eating terror at home, I believe I shall be satisfied with my usual fee. Otherwise, I shall be forced to go Cruella De Vil on the little beast."

"Of course, of course." I say cheerfully, handing him a check and walking homewards with a spring in my step.

Sedatives, check... blank video discs, check... practiced walking in high heels (ouch), check...

Well, the dress is here, I've made the devices I'll need for some fun at the convention, and I even managed to figure out how to get some of the more... dodgy stuff past what I'm sure will be heavy security. In fact, I've got it all planned out. I hear that SoItBegins will be operating the security systems for this year... well, I have the perfect way to subvert his efforts.

This year, the convention will be mine. Mommy will be so proud.

Desius's fitting is finally done. And the lab....I calmly survey the scorch marks and overturned tables, tsking.
"My, what a large clean up job you have ahead of you. Desius."
There's just enough of a chill in my voice to make him spring immediately into action.
Strolling to my workbench, I start stowing my....accessories, to the sounds of frantic sweeping behind me.
"We will take the improved universal antidote before we leave. Even so-- exercise care. I don't want to find you drinking, pouring out your troubles to a sympathetic bartender or fellow henchperson. I don't want you giving anything away in casual conversation to another mad, either. And whatever you do, NEVER accept a mint from anyone.'
Pauses."I am not spending any of my convention time altering your outfit into something more feminine."
I savour the terror on his face.
"You will keep your guard up-- all the others are sure to have their own nefarious plots. Sub vocalization works fine on our comm link, and above all else--" Making sure he's paying attention, I fix him with a steely glare.
"I don't want you anywhere NEAR Jane Narbon." My, what an odd expression. "She may have helped us-- but it wasn't out of the goodness of her own heart. Even with her now having Tinker owing her a favor-- no, I don't think that woman takes a breath without having an evil plan behind it."
Satisfied I've impressed upon his this trip is no fun filled vacation-for him anyway, heh heh heh, I go down stairs to visit Mecha.

"And how's my darling this morning?" I coo. The wire and cable vines rustle, and a tendril reaches up to pat my face. "Yes, I'm happy to see you too-now, who wants an iron tablet?'" It waves excitedly, and I toss one at it, to have it snatched out of the air."Very good,dear! Now you know Desius and I will be gone for a few days, so you be a good vine and I'll bring you home a surprise." It quivers, sadly drooping."Now Mecha, dear, don't be like that. I can't bring you and that's that. There's a nice TV here, and I know for a fact you've grown a remote for it. Besides, if someone breaks in you can grab them-- think what fun that will be!" It's starting to perk up. "Remember that little discussion we had, over where you can and cannot grow. If you want to try growing up the wall and across the ceiling, you may not block any windows, vents, controls, etc., all right?"
"Now, I'll send Desius over in a little to give you some nice machine oil."
Mecha waves excitedly.
"Mommy's glad you like him, dear, but be easy with those hugs of yours. He's not as strong as you are, and he takes such good care of you. I know he's been teaching you how to play cards."
I make a kissy sound. "I need to go finish packing, be good now."

The professor may have to wait a while for a cutting. Maybe when it sets seed...

I sigh, standing in my Menagerie. This is *always* the hardest part. . . .

"Alright, everyone. I'll only be gone a few days or so, and you're all stocked up. Edward the Eagle-Cheetah is in charge, and everyone should do well enough to listen to the senior GRUES, alright?" I say strongly, trying hard not to break down.

"But why can't we go too?" Asks a tiny little baby gazebo, tears welling up in it's little eyes like mist.

I pick it up, scratching it behind it's ear.
"I'm sorry, little one. But I'm already taking Fredric and the committee has a hard enough time letting *him* in as it is. And there's just too many of you, okay?" it nods, sniffling slightly as I give it to it's mother.

One of the older GRUES steps up, taking off his monocle and polishing it with his handkerchief.
"No worries, old chap. We'll keep the ship steady, wot. Just have a good time, ey?" he says, saluting slightly.

I smile gratefully.
"Thank you very much, Wainscoting. I don;t know what I would do without you."
He puffs up a little, smiling proudly with a mouth full of teeth like needles and broken glass.

I sigh slightly. Oh, I know they'll all be all right, but I do worry so.

"Ma'am, what about this one?"
She seems excited. *walks over to display* "No. There is no possible way I'm going to wear that to the convention."
"But why not, ma'am?"
"It's pink. With flowers."
"But it looks beautiful, ma'am."
"No. If you must find me a dress, find one in black or blood red. And it must be menacing. And no high heels. How people manage to walk in them, I have no idea."
"Yes, ma'am."
"...Ingrid?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think the clone will be fine on its own? What if there's another leak, or it begins to mutate or something?"
"It'll be fine, ma'am. It's only for a few days."
"Yeah, I know."
"Don't worry about it, ma'am. You've still got plenty more DNA if it dies, anyways."
"I know, I know. I just...I just want to get this over with as soon as possible."

"Oh come on!" Des yelled, slamming his hands on the table."You're a... a... mechanical plant thing!" he pointed at the vine which shook excitedly, and he slid his finger next to the coffee machine, "You're a coffee maker, an inanimate object for Christ's sake!"
It burbled happily.
"It's not a compliment!" he retorted, glaring at his old foe. "I mean, it's not like you guys NEED anything, so why do you always, always, have to take my money?" he pleaded as a small vine carefully wrapped around the pot in the middle of the table.
"I'm regretting teaching you guys how to play poker," he huffed, crossing his arms and fuming. "I'm not even sure how you play," he shot at the coffee machine. It puffed a wave of steam almost like a shrug.
"What do you even do with it?," he asked the vine, moping as he worked his way over to the supply closet and rummaged for a can of oil. The coffee maker slyly reached with a small arm and slipped a few cards under it, the vine innocently looking away as Des continued to mope his way back. He slipped on a pair of gloves and dabbed here and there while it slithered and twisted in pleasure. "How?" he asked, rubbing in the oil. "No, No, I'm not asking how you got on the internet, I gave you the cable last week, AND don't tell Chic, she thinks you're too young to be surfing the interweb."
"I know, I know, you promised not to, but I know how you get when she asks."
"No, I want to know how you got a credit card to be able to buy stuff."
"What do you mean, you just applied, you don't even...", he started putting the can away and stripping off his gloves. "What do you mean you got a social security number!"
He slid back into his seat, when he heard Chic moving upstairs. All three froze, waiting for quiet, like little boys about to be caught by their mother.
Des relaxed, the vine going limp with relief, and even the coffee maker gave a little puff when they heard Chic giggling and the lightning started flickering across the Zephyr Mark II.
"She's been going all night, readying herself for that grand entrance of hers."
The coffee maker bubbled pitifully.
"Don't you start," snapped Des, shuffling the cards, and flicking them one by one around the table. "You only got to make the coffee what, ever hour or so? I've been working 'round the clock since yesterday. Technically, this is my lunch break."
The vine wiggled a question while Des played the flop.
"Well I've been on lunch for about three hours now." Des smiled. "Chic won't notice it until she snaps out of that frenzy she works herself into." the round of betting moved it's way across the table.
"You know that one the Mads always do." he commented, laying the turn.
"I don't know really, I've been taking some night classes, trying to work on that degree," Des turned to the laughing plant and machine. "Hardy Har Har fella's, laugh it up," he fumed, the next round of betting over. "But, as I was saying, there isn't very much on Mads, its like the outside world ignores them. But they rely what they make!"
He pondered playing the river, and giving a low whistle. Four of a kind, he thought, plenty enough to get him back his money. "All in boys." he said pushing his money into the middle.
The coffee maker puffed warily, and called, the vine withering in indecision.
"In or out?", quiped Des sweetly, as the vine whipped around violently, and finally called.
"Four of a kind, Aces," Des smiled as the vine uncoiled in defeat.
The coffee maker steamed loudly, filling the air, as a small mechanical servo, inched out and filpped his cards.
Des's eye twitched as he read them, Royal flush.
He clenched his fist, shaking his head and glaring as the coffee maker gathered the money burbling happily away.
"I don't know how you do it," Des forced through clenched teeth, "But one day.... wait a minute..." he said spying the edge of a card under the machine.
"You cheating peice of scrap metal, I'm going to take you to the junkyard you littl-" He started, climbing over the table to reach the machine, when Chic burst through the door.
"I got it, I got it!" she bounced excitedly, "I know how we're go...ing... to... what are you doing?" she asked sweetly, steel slipping into her voice as Des wildly knocked over the table and the machine steamed innocently.
"N-n-nothing at all, Chic," Des said, flashing his widest smile, kicking the remaining cards not so gently under the coffee machine, who continued steaming as innocently as it could. The vine discreetly coiled the money, unnoticed into itself.

"Alright Lagos, you were right this time, but why did you make them use that cloth you provided?"

"Oh, you'll find out in due time. Meanwhile, what am I wearing?"

"Something good. I can't show it to you until you get there. Just put on this projector, and trust me."

"Wally, when have I ever trusted you with anything less important than my life?"

"Then now's a good time to start. I'm sure this will be fun."