Chapter XII

Out of the darkness a voice was heard to say, "What the hell was that?" A cat-like shape responded, "Well, off hand I’d say it was an electromagnetic pulse moving at somewhere near the speed of light. Actually four pulses." The Clyde-like shape replied with a clever, "Oh, of course," while secretly wishing he had a normal cat rather than this vegetarian’s nightmare.

"I suppose some light would be too much to ask for?" came from another Clyde-like shape. About this time, two things happened almost simultaneously. The door on Clyde’s house exploded, which was quickly followed by an even larger explosion out on the street.

"Another electro-thing-a-majiggy?" asked Clyde, who could be seen clearly in the glow from a flaming van.

"No, Savior, that was just an exploding van," Tibby replied.

Everyone in the house raced for the door, which no longer needed to be opened, and scrambled out on to the lawn.

"Well, what do you know, it was a van," Clyde stated smartly.

Tibby smirked.

Meanwhile, in orbit around the earth, a heated discussion was being held on the remnants of the IRS Plague. "What idiot forgot to turn the shields on?!" demanded Captain Milquetoast.

"Well, sir, I believe that was you, err, I mean you never gave the order..umm," second in command Ghackur managed to say before he was promptly disintegrated.

"Now then, WHO is responsible for not turning on the shields?" asked the Captain again. Formerly third in Command Blattidae stepped forward, glancing quickly at the smoking ashes, all that was left of Ghackur.

"Sir, I can’t lie to you. It was Ghackur. I warned him to keep the shields on...."

Milquetoast nodded in satisfaction. "That will do, that will do nicely. You are now second in command, and as your first duty you are to find a way to get the teleporters working. It’s time we paid a visit to a Mr. Clyde Millers."

"Order, we must have order!" the Senate leader, Dan Quayle, yelled over the rest of the voices which flittered about the Senate. "I realize you are all a bit confused, what with the darkness and all, but emergency lighting should be on in a few moments. Everyone just please remain seated." With that the lights flickered back on. "Now, I’ve just been informed that the missile which was launched by our ‘beloved’ president," he paused to glare at the woman in question, "has just exploded harmlessly in space. Anything with electrical components in it will most likely be useless for the next 3 hours, however, we have lighting again so on with the trial."

"Now, Miss President, would you care to explain why you shot three men, killing one and wounding two others, and almost started world war three by launching a nuclear weapon?"

"P..." mumbled Jennifer Eciper.

"What was that? A little louder please."

"I said it was PMS, do you have a problem with that?!" screamed the President.

"Umm, well no, that does explain it. Case dismissed," replied Dan, inwardly wishing that he had never gotten into a career of politics. For the first time in the history of the Senate, the Republicans, the Democrats, and the Independents all agreed on a single issue. The president was free to go, impeachment would not be sought. After all, she had done all those deeds yesterday. Despite popular opinion, politicians are bright enough to realize she was still a bit ‘moody’.

Nona, the Goddess of Pure Math, was unhappy. By now, that miserable planet with all the scientists should be obliterated. "What went wrong? The beam fired. There was enough force in that last blast to obliterate the sun. I did the calculations myself."

"Well, mighty goddess, it seems that something was wrong with the equations you had me enter into the computer," replied Random, the high priest of Nona.

"What exactly did the beam hit then?" she asked, hoping it hadn’t destroyed a certain little pleasure palace she had hidden away in the icecaps of Mars.

"As far as I can tell, it seems to have completely destroyed the planet Neptune. Pity, a friend of mine that lived there, Kopra, owed me money."

"Check your equation," he suggested.

"Oh, Hell," she replied. "I forgot to carry the one."

Back on the IRS Plague, or what was left of it, Captain Milquetoast smiled. The trans-dimensional teleporters were up and running and he was just finishing briefing his landing party. "..the most important thing is to capture him alive. If anything happens to Mr. Millers, who knows what might happen. Now prepare to beam down to the surface." Milquetoast and his chosen party of nine walked to the beaming platform and waited.

"Energize," commanded Milquetoast.

Nothing happened.

"I said ‘Energize!’"

Once again, nothing happened.

"What’s wrong with this damned thing?" he demanded to know, stepping off the platform.

As he stepped off, a blinding flash of light appeared on the platform, which quickly manifested itself as a human. Clad in rhinestone-studded bell-bottoms, a flowing white cape, with a guitar in one hand and a bottle of liquid soap in the other stood Gharan-Tzu. The King lives.

On Earth, many miles below, it once again began raining on Clyde’s house, consequently putting out a van.