Chapter X

Clyde turned the corner and stepped into the village alleyway. Bert’s arm was phasing wildly now, but before Tibby could issue a warning hiss, Clyde was confronted by three imposing characters of the male variety. They each stood well over 6 feet tall; all dressed in impeccable black Brooks Brothers suits and dark sunglasses (at night...pause for reader to sing Corey Hart lyrics) and all sporting very stylish, very moussed coifs - so hip as to cause Clyde to mutter, "Wow! Great hair!"

Bert’s arm abruptly stopped phasing and Tibby hissed at Clyde’s superficial observation, which was indicative of a greater problem - Clyde’s complete failure to grasp the situation at hand.

The current situation at hand revolved around the little GQ squad grabbing Clyde and shoving him into a black limousine. Tibby tried to jump into the rumble, but was quickly met with a hard black wingtip. He flew through the air and landed at the feet of a young woman wearing a pancho and dungarees. Tibby looked up and became fixated on the white shock of hair that disrupted her mane of auburn. He grabbed for Bert’s arm and was taken aback by the blinding fervor of its pulsations.

Motivated purely by instinct, Raindrop picked up Tibby and began to run towards the limousine, within which Clyde had finally been captured. The Lincoln sped away, leaving Raindrop and Tibby in a cloud of diesel dust - Tibby bemoaning Clyde’s violent exit, Raindrop disturbed that she was stuck with a Chia cat, a naked eunuch, and Patrick Stewart, while Theodore Lind could be heard in the background bitching about a run in his stockings...

No words were spoken as the limo traveled down the highway. Clyde was too stunned, too worn out to say or do anything except lean back and wonder which major deity he had offended. He looked up at what he thought to be the Three With Great Hair, thinking they must be Vidal Sasson’s wet dream, when suddenly all three jerked their heads in unison and scrunched up their faces as if they were listening to something intently. It was then that Clyde noticed they all had small flesh colored spiral cords descending from the left ear. The suits, the sunglasses, the earpieces - Oh, shit, Clyde thought, the Secret Service. Now he knew which major deity he had offended...

"You tell that bastard that the GOP better support me on this one or I’ll parade around the Capitol with his head on a stick!" Jennifer screamed at her Chief of Staff. She slammed down the phone and threw down her pen in disgust. Most days Jennifer Eciper truly reveled in the experience of being President of the United States. Today was not one of those days. The conservatives had their boxers in a bind over the liberal reforms she was trying to push (more like ram) through Congress, Yoko Ono kept pestering her for a White House gig, and the director of the CIA had dropped off a report stating that a group called the Pure Mathematicians was on the prowl, presenting a threat to national security.

But the Prez couldn’t concentrate on these matters at the moment, because a triumvirate of intellect and insanity had just been ushered into the Oval Office. President Eciper made it a habit to entertain academics who had innovative proposals, but couldn’t get an audience within their own circles.

"Sorry, ma’am, but it took me awhile to get these three out of the lobby," explained Eciper’s personal secretary.

"No problem. Sit down, gentlemen. I’m a busy woman, so let’s get on with this, shall we?"

A spastic redhead immediately piped up, "Well, you see, Madame President, I’ve programmed Tetris II, and I was thinking, well, you know, it might be a good stress relief for you."

"That’s what I have a 500 billion dollar defense budget for."

"True enough, but I put a lot of effort into this for you."

"Thank you, but I really don’t have time to play games..."

The poet in black responded to that statement with a snort.

"Again, it’s simply there for you if you need it," the redhead continued.

"Fine, thanks ever so much. Next."

A shy but devastatingly handsome biologist nervously began his pitch for a defense plan that exploited the bio tech industry. Eciper was immediately interested (in the plan, folks, the plan!) and leaned forward to listen when the redhead gestured toward the biologist and began humming "Strawberry Fields Forever". Eciper glared at him with bitchiness uncontained, but that only seemed to encourage him.

"Let me take you down, ‘cause I’m going to..."

Eciper reached down into her lower right hand desk drawer and drew out a .45 snub-nosed revolver, a gift from her lieutenant governor when she was involved in Florida politics. Without a word, she planted a slug between his eyes and turned back to the biologist, "You were saying?"

The biologist began his spiel again, when he was rudely interrupted by the poet in black, who gushed, "Madame President, you’re so radiant when you’re angry!" That remark earned him a shot to the chest. Jennifer just did not have time for this nonsense.

The biologist wore a look that was a strange mixture of fear and relief. Nevertheless, he falteringly began to illustrate his new defense plan.

"Picture this," the biologist gestured grandly. "Bats armed with bombs!"

"Bats? Bombs? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I have developed a plan by which I can attach small, but high powered, explosives to bats. The bats are then released thousands at a time from a bomber and they fly into every nook and cranny and cause massive destruction!" He ended with self applause and a maniacal laugh.

What level of hell have I been banished to, Jennifer thought as she pulled the revolver up for a third strike. But before she could pull the trigger, she found herself staring at the most adorable pout she’d ever seen. She shook her head and tried to aim again, but staring into those pleading almond eyes crippled her will and she put the gun down.

The biologist stood up with a self-satisfied smile on his face. "I guess you’re not the domineering bitch on wheels you try to portray to the public, huh?" He started to laugh at the Prez, then Pow! Thunk.

Submission? Yeah, right...

Eciper sat across from her National Security Advisor and posed the question that had plagued humanity for centuries - "What the fuck am I going to do about the Pure Mathematicians?"

"Negotiations?" the NSA offered.

"Hell, no! I won’t negotiate with terrorists - certainly not ones who have devoted their lives to math! These are serious fucking psychos!"

"Well, diplomatic coercion hasn’t worked, so I guess this is your call, Madame President," the NSA announced with resignation.

"Are there any chances for a peaceful settlement?" Jennifer inquired.

"Doubtful," the NSA replied. "The leader has purportedly said you couldn’t pass calculus if your life depended on it, so she won’t deal with you."

A storm blew up in Jennifer’s eyes. "I’ll give that bitch something to deal with!" Jennifer screamed. "Give me your nuclear access card!"

The NSA stared at the president in disbelief, but knew he had no chance in hell of making Jennifer back down. He withdrew his access card and handed it to the President. Along with her similar card, Eciper ran them through a console on her desk. The launch code 9 101110 264 11 982 1011 / 38 12 appeared on the screen and Jennifer depressed the enter key.

A silo in South Dakota opened up and a MX missile with 6 independently targeted warheads rose from the ground.....

Would the President really nuke math fiends?

Is it unconstitutional for the President to blow away people who annoy her?

And what’s up with Clyde and the mod squad?

Read on....