Sunday, November 21, 2010

Time Tornado - Chapter 3


"A Stranger In A Strange Land"

            “Excuse me,” I said, leaning out of my bedroom window.
            “Are you addressing me?” asked the man in the white tunic.  He was wearing a pair of sandals and was standing in the middle of the street.
            “Yes.  Are you looking for someone?  You appear to be lost.”
            “I am not quite sure where I am.  Maybe you could be of some assistance to me?” he asked, looking around.
            “I’ll be right down,” I said.
            I disconnecting Rob from the word processor monitor.  “Rob, as soon as we get outside, I want a complete analysis of the stranger in the street.”
            “Affirmative.”  He rolled down the ramp from the second story as I followed and we headed out into the front yard.
            “My name is Larry,” I stated, extending a hand toward the stranger.  He looked at it curiously, but didn’t take it.
            “I am Alexander of Macedonia, son of Philip II.  Conqueror of Greece, Persia and Egypt,” he replied, without flinching.
            “Of course you are,” I smiled skeptically.  “Rob?”
            “Affirmative.”
            “Affirmative?  What to you mean ‘affirmative’?” I asked.
            “He is Alexander of Macedonia.  Also known as Alexander the Great.  Born 356 B.C., ascended to the throne 336 B.C., died 323 B.C.”  Rob paused, then added, “June 10.”
            “What’s June 10?” I asked.
            “The day of death in the year B.C.,” replied Rob.
            “What is this ‘B.C.?’” asked Alexander.
            “B.C. is an abbreviation.  It stands for ‘before Christ.’” began Rob, “It is used to distinguish dates prior to and after the arrival of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.  Its opposite is A.D. or anno Domino—Latin for ‘in the year of our Lord.’  Informally translated as ‘after death’ referring to the crucifixion in A.D. 29 or 30 of Jesus, the Christ of Nazareth.  Those dates are in dispute.”
            “Thank you, Rob,” I smiled.  His knowledge had been supplemented with the input of an entire set of encyclopedias. Unfortunately ever since, I haven’t been able to figure out how to limit his output on a single subject to sentence or two of pertinent information.
            “That is the queerest armor I have ever seen.  Of what make is it?” pointed the Macedonian, looking over Rob.
            “It’s not armor, it’s a robot,” I replied.
            “A what?” inquired the curious Alexander, bravely surveying Rob.
            “Hold on,” I said.
            “Onto what?” he asked in a baffled tone.
            “Rob, contact Melissa.  Tell her to get over here immediately.  I have a feeling we’re going to need her.”
            “Affirmative,” replied Rob.
            A loud dial tone began to emanate from his cellular phone unit.  A now‑even more confused and slightly scared Alexander began looking around more wildly.
            “Dialing Melissa at this time,” stated Rob.
            “Take it off speaker,” I instructed Rob, wanting to save Alexander from any more discomfort.  “Would you like a cold drink?”
            “Yes, I would,” replied a grateful Alexander, “do you have any lamb’s blood.”
            “Ah, I’m afraid not,” I hesitated, “I’ve only got Pepsi and lemonade.”
            “What is Pepsi?”
            “It’s a sweet, cold drink with bubbles,” I explained.
            “That sounds like a royal beverage,” he replied, following me around to the backyard.  I wasn’t about to try to explain the gadgets inside the house, so I felt outside was the best place to keep the King of Macedonia.

*           *           *           *

            Peering through an opening in the side of an old shed were two pairs of eyes—little animals’ eyes to be precise—gazed at the stranger from their pen.  They belonged to Woba Womba and Cleo the koleapus.  Both were the very last of their species and had come to live with me after our adventures in the Magic Lands, doing battle with the Green Devil, the late‑Lived Neerg.
            Woba was a womba.  Wombas lived in the land of Wombonia until Lived Neerg destroyed it.  Woba appeared to be made entirely out of cardboard boxes.  He had a square head with little round eyes.  His mouth was rectangular and looked like a flap hanging from his box‑like head.  His body was rectangular, as were his legs and paws.  His little rectangular tail resembled a thin shoebox sticking up from his body.  He was brown in color and he had a bi‑cardio circulatory system (two hearts!).  He also possessed a vulcanized outer shell—meaning, he was made of rubber.
            Cleo was a koleapus, the last of the formerly mythological creatures from Living Land, whose ancestors were thought to have possessed magical powers.  Over time, any powers they did have had faded and their exploits became legendary.  The koleapus was an equestrian‑like creature with the body of a gazelle, the head of a zebra (with a tan mane instead of the usual black), the large tail of an anteater, and the paws of a lion.  As awkward as this may sound, Cleo was a very elegant and graceful looking creature.
            “That looks like an odd fellow,” stated Woba, tilting his head from one side to the other.
            “I wonder where he came from?” pondered Cleo, thoughtfully
            “Something must be up,” observed Woba, craning his little, boxed neck to get a better look through the cracks between the shed’s slats.
            “Hey!” he observed, “Rob’s outside, too.  I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
            “No, we haven’t,” replied Cleo, thoughtfully.
            “Let’s go say ‘hi!’” stated the little excited womba, bounding around the pen.
            “Not just yet,” stated Cleo, “let’s stay quiet and listen to what’s going on.”

*           *           *           *

            Melissa arrived about 15‑minutes later and I set her to work talking to Alexander the Great.  This didn’t take much convincing due to the legendary stature of the subject; not to mention the fact that he was quite strong and handsome.  I think the worst part for me was the fact that his god‑like physique was clad merely in the slightest of togas, draped ever so loosely over his taut muscles.  Fortunately, I was confident enough in my relationship with Melissa that I would not let this bother me...well, just a little...okay, so it bothered me a lot, but what did I have to worry about...Alexander the Great had been dead for 23 centuries.
            Anyway, in addition to quickly briefing him on the last 2000‑years, Melissa also attempted to find out how he got here and why.  During this interview, Alexander seemed understandably confused and distracted.  He did discover that he had a fondness for Pepsi, though.  I took the opportunity to slip away to the house in order to retrieve an old friend.  I blew the accumulated dust off a massive (eight inches thick!) ancient‑looking book that was languishing on the shelf—the great “Spell Book of Androganine.”
            “The Spell Book of Androganine” was a very useful thing to have around.  In the Introduction, it explained that it was an indestructible (although over time, quite a few pages had turned up missing), multi‑lingual, all‑purpose, user manual, written by the mighty sorcerer, Voldotz.  He had been burdened with a short memory and would write down all of his spells and incantations as he came up with them.  He was the father of all that is magical and mystical in the universes.
            It further explained that its spells were workable in all known dimensions at the time of its writing and that the book, on a whole or in part, could be utilized only by whoever had the Grotog cast upon them.  This was the spell that I had received from Bringle Brand of Jingleland—during our first encounter with Lived Neerg—that enabled me to use the book and not the others.
            “Well, what have we found out?” I asked, after rejoining Alexander, Melissa and Rob in the yard with the giant tome tucked under my arm.
            “It appears that our 25‑year old guest has incurred wrath of Zeus who punished him by sending him into the future,” replied Melissa, matter‑of‑factly.
            “What did you do?” I asked.
            “I was convicted of stealing the winged steed, Pegasus.”
            “And did you?” I asked.
            “The gods have found me to be guilty; therefore, I must be,” he responded solemnly.
            “That’s all he’ll say,” shrugged Melissa.
            “I detect hesitation and deception,” replied Rob, “he is not telling the truth.”
            “How dare you!” declared Alexander, “Such impertinence.”
            “You did not steal Pegasus,” stated Rob confidently (although, being a robot, everything he stated was with confidence).
            “Then who did?” asked Melissa.
            “Unknown,” replied Rob.
            “Alexander...may I call you Alex?” I asked.
            “Alex?” he paused in thought, looking upward, “that sounds interesting.  Yes you may.  May I have another...Pepsi, please?”
            “Sure,” I smiled, reaching into the cooler and bringing out another frosty can.  “Alex, who do you think stole Pegasus?”
            “It would be wrong for me to accuse another, when the gods have found me to be guilty.”
            “But the gods aren’t here now and the only way we can help you is to find out what you know,” smiled Melissa.
            “You are correct,” he replied.  After a brief pause, he continued, “I believe I was plotted against.  I do not know by whom but I did not do it.  Pegasus is a friend.”
            “Then the only way we’re going to be able to help you is to send you back to your own time and let you search for whoever did this to you,” I said, thumbing through “The Spell Book of Androganine.”
            “Now where is it?” I mused aloud to myself, “I thought I saw a spell that might help.”
            “I believe the spell you are referring to is on page 321,” stated Rob.
            “Ah, yes.  Here it is: Continuum Disrupter Vortex,” I stated proudly.
            “How did you know that, Rob?” asked Melissa.
            “It is one of the names of the spells that Larry thought sounded interesting.  He had me input a list of 37 spell names.”
            “Oh, goody!  Time travel!” cheered Woba, who had left the shed and was now hiding in the bushes.
            “Shhhh,” cautioned Cleo.
            “Too late,” I said, turning toward the bushes surrounding the shed, “you guys might as well come out.”
            Woba and Cleo made their way out of the bushes.  Both made a low bow before Alexander, then Woba trotted over to Melissa and greeted her by rubbed his head up against her leg like a cat.
            “Hello, Woba,” she smiled, petting him on his squared head.
            “Sire, it is an honor to meet you,” stated Cleo, “I have read so much about you.”
            “Talking creatures!” stated an astonished Alexander, “But I thought Pegasus was the only one who could talk?”
            “It’s a long story,” I started, “but, yes; they also talk.”
            “Alexander, where should we send you back to?” asked Melissa, “Mount Olympus?  To Zeus?”
            “No.  I must be returned to the goddess Athena.  She is the one who sponsored me on Olympus.  Only she can help.”
            “Sponsored?” I asked.
            “Since Alexander is a mortal, his access to Mount Olympus could only be granted if he was sponsored by one of the gods,” explained Melissa.
            “Uh, oh,” I said, looking up from the Spell Book, “we have a slight problem.”
            “What’s that?” asked Melissa.
            “The Continuum Disrupter Vortex will only work on Alex if I go along with him.”
            “Then you must accompany me,” he stated, patting me on the back, “Athena will enjoy talking to a man from the future.”
            “It’s either that, or he’ll have to stay here with us,” smiled Melissa slyly.  She knew just which buttons to push.
            “I guess it’s settled then,” I piped in quickly, “say good-bye to the 20th century, Alex.  I’m taking you back.”
            After saying good-bye to Cleo and Woba, he kissed Melissa on the hand.  He asked if he could take a few Pepsi’s back with him. I chuckled and after giving Alexander the Great what was left of my six‑pack, I took his hand and began:

                        “Eonus, Regresstos...

            I paused, “Rob, what year do we want?”
            “331 B.C.” stated Rob.
            “I hope I can pronounce this last word,” I said, hesitantly:

                        “Eonus, Regresstos, 331 B.C., Palace of Athena, Mount Olympus, Greece, Volumptionflocktosmoniumbergingspheerius.

            No sooner had I finished the spell, when there was an enormous puff of orange smoke (and, as Melissa reported later, a sequence of ‘poof’ sounds).  When the smoke cleared, Alexander and I were gone.

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