KATACLYSM: A Space-Time Comedy (15 page)

On the bridge of the alien ship, a large red panel next to the helmsman flashed.

“Sir,” he called back to the alien salesman.  “We’ve detected an energy surge next to our landing site, possibly originating from a nuclear device.”

The salesman leaned over the controls, flinging his tentacles to one side so that he could see for himself.  His face became more serious.

“Very well.  Initiate countermeasure protocol alpha,” the salesman directed the helmsman.

“Aye aye sir.”

“What’s going on?” said Jude who was suddenly feeling unsettled as Boston’s lights became visible on the view screen.

The salesman’s gaze stayed focused on the controls.

“Someone is trying to set off a nuclear bomb at exactly the spot where we’re trying to land,” he said with no hint of panic.

“A what?  In Boston?!  There must be some mistake,” said Jude who, along with his companions, was panicked.

“It’s terrorists!” cried Flower.  “We’re all going to die!”

“Settle down, everyone,” said the salesman who was now worried about how this news would affect the chances of Paroophoron leaving in a brand new ship.  After all, a happy customer was usually more likely to buy.  “This will all be over in a minute.”

“Protocol alpha ready sir,” declared the helmsman.

“Good work,” boomed the salesman. “Lock target and fire argon bubble.”

“Argon bubble?  Protocol alpha?  What are you talking about?” shouted Jude.

As he said this, the floor shook and a strange object came into view on the massive screen in front of them.  It appeared that the ship had spit out what, to Jude and Flower, looked like a gigantic breast implant and it was headed in the direction of the Bunker Hill Monument which was just taking shape on the view screen in front of them.

“Don’t worry,” said the salesman. “This is standard procedure.  It’s no big deal.  Clean landings are rare in my business.  People try to kill me all the time.”

“Now there’s a surprise,” Paroophoron beeped sarcastically under his breath as the bubble made a direct hit.

With three seconds left on the bomb’s timer, Terry stood awestruck as the giant bubble impaled itself on the obelisk, creating a sphere that engulfed the upper half of the monument. Then, before thoughts of any sort could enter his mind, the serene sky above him was disrupted by a magnificent burst of light.  In a split second, the bubble had soundlessly filled with the full enormity of the explosion.  The part of the obelisk trapped within the sphere had shattered into an uncountable number of pieces and all that remained was a ball of energy that pushed on the bubble from all angles.  Sparks, streams and eddies of light shot in all directions within it.

Amid the dazzling pyrotechnics, the alien ship gracefully lowered itself towards the hilltop.  The blinding light generated by the blast slowly began to dissipate and a small hole opened atop the bubble allowing a steady trickle of smoke to escape into the night sky.  As the ship touched down only a few feet away, Terry began to tremble.  His savior had made a spectacular entrance, the likes of which even he could not have envisioned.  The leader now realized that he had not adequately prepared for this meeting.  He inwardly chastised himself for the small part of him that never thought this moment would really come.  Struggling to control his emotions, he hastily attempted to compose a few words that might befit this sacred occasion.

The alien ship was the size of a small office building and, as it landed, a thin black escalator shot down from a nondescript porthole nine stories in the air.  Four figures emerged and descended along it in single file, led by the alien salesman whose tentacles bobbed up and down on his shoulders in the cold wind.

“You see, a good salesman must always be prepared for any eventuality,” he preached to his three companions, “a policy which makes my merchandise the preferred choice for most discriminating…”

“Oh, give it a rest,” beeped Paroophoron who, like the two humans, was anxious to attend to more pressing matters.

Flower saw the man who had tried to hand her the End of Days leaflet on Sunday cowering a few feet from the bottom of the escalator.  Looking far more disheveled than in Madame Sfortunata’s stairwell, he was kneeling in solemn deference as they reached the ground.  The bubble above had mostly deflated and was now leaning to one side casting only a dim light over the surroundings.  The alien salesman strode over to the kneeling man and motioned for him to rise.

“Oh great one, blessed is the…” Terry began.

“You’re not Wu,” interrupted the salesman with a hint of annoyance.

This near non sequitur was not at all what Terry had been expecting.  He wasn’t sure quite how to take it.

“No I am not, your Lordship.  But if I may be so bold, it is the greatest…”

“Where’s Wu?” the salesman cut in again.

“Um…uh?”  Terry stood speechless, unable to understand what his master wanted of him.

“Well, I don’t have all day to stand around here,” the salesman bellowed gruffly, his hands flailing around.

As he did this, the alien’s clipboard caught Terry on the chin, sending him tumbling onto the frozen grass.

“That’s the whole reason I have distributors in the first place,” the salesman continued oblivious to Terry who was staggering back to his feet.  “Now where am I supposed to unload these ships?”

“But…but you’re Adam,” Terry cried out, his lip quivering and a small trickle of blood running down his neck.

“Yes, Adam,” said the salesman proudly, with another grand gesture of his clipboard which caused Terry to duck out of the way, “from Adam’s Outer Space Ship Emporium.  We sell the best ships in outer space…Now where’s Wu?”

“I don’t know,” Terry stammered despondently, fishing around in his backpack and pulling out the red flashing box.  “But I received your message.  I received…”

“Where did you get that?” Adam snapped.

“I found it when you chose to send me your divine word.  It had been discarded like a common piece of…”

“That’s great,” Adam interrupted again angrily, “just great.  That stupid old fool.  He actually followed through and tossed the damn thing in the trash.”  Adam shook his head sending his tentacles flying.  “So I stiffed him by a couple of percent.  That’s business.  Now what am I supposed to do?”

The two men stood staring at each other miserably in silence.

“Alright, I’m out of here,” Adam finally said.

“B…b…but…” Terry stuttered in a way that would have been quite satisfying to Greg if only he had been there to see it, “…you were supposed to usher in a new age…You were supposed to bring Utopia…You were supposed to die for our sins!”

Terry stomped his foot like a three year old whose mother had just denied him a particularly tasty candy bar.  Adam’s eyes shifted from side to side uncomfortably.

“Yeah, well…gee kid, I’m sorry to disappoint you.  But I only really do that kind of stuff if I think it might help make a sale.”

The pair stared at each other for another uncomfortable moment.

“Ok, I’m getting out of this dump,” Adam said in disgust, turning around to search for his three guests.  “Alright Paroophoron, let’s see if we can refinance that…” he began, but Adam was surprised to find that he was speaking to a cold empty hill.

They had disappeared.

While Adam had been occupying himself with Terry, Paroophoron, Jude and Flower had taken the opportunity to flee down the side of the hill.

“How much time left?” beeped Paroophoron who was coming precariously close to tumbling down the slope.

Jude looked at his watch.

“It’s quarter to eight.  We’re cutting it very close.  At least he hasn’t gotten the tea yet.”

“How do you know that?” asked Flower who was trying to keep pace.

“Well, you’re still here aren’t you?” he replied.

“Good point,” said Flower as they reached the bottom of the hill, “but we don’t have a prayer of making it in time even if he’s going to wait until the last possible second.”

“Not on foot we don’t,” said Jude who was scanning the street for a running car.

Unfortunately, either because of the cold weather or in response to the massive explosion, Beacon Hill now seemed to be deserted.

“There,” said Paroophoron pointing to two hefty men half a block away who were standing next to a sizeable motorcycle.

The trio ran down the street towards the men.  As they got closer, they could hear the men shouting at each other.

“…I mean it, I’m sick of it,” yelled one of them.  “I didn’t come all the way here to help you renovate your sister-in-law’s house just so that I would have to listen to your feminist psychobabble.”

“Excuse me!” Flower called on to them.  “Sirs, I need your help!”

“Oh, go to hell Ernie,” said the other hulk of a man who was too caught up in the argument to notice Flower.  “I’m just saying, you didn’t have to use the power drill.”

Paroophoron and the two humans were now within feet of the men and it was only then that Jude realized he was looking at Pete, the construction worker with the mangled eyebrows with whom he had been arguing about ‘personholes’ on Sunday morning.  It seemed like a distant memory.

“Well what did you want me to use, Pete?  My teeth?” said Ernie who shoved his partner menacingly.

“You and I both know that’s not the point,” Pete spat, shoving Ernie back.  “It’s a phallic symbol, ok?  You could have used something else.  Didn’t you see Carol’s face?”

“Gentlemen, please!” Flower pleaded unsuccessfully.

“Carol was smiling, you idiot!” shouted Ernie.  “She was thrilled!”

“You moron,” retorted Pete. “Couldn’t you see through that flimsy veneer?  Sure, years of learned helplessness have taught her to take on a subservient posture in front of displays of masculinity, but it was obvious that she was crying inside…”

“Shut up!” screamed Jude as loudly as his vocal cords would tolerate.

The two men immediately stopped fighting and looked towards Jude.

“Oh…it’s you again,” Pete responded in disgust.  “Buzz off, pal.”

“No…” Jude said forcefully.

The Rhode Scholar cat massage therapist was tired of being kicked around like a worn out hacky-sack and finally, he felt he had a foolproof plan.

“…I will not buzz off.  I will not buzz off because if this woman doesn’t get to Massachusetts General Hospital in five minutes, she is going to die.  Do you understand?  This woman is going to die.”

Jude paused to allow this information to percolate in Pete’s brain.  The construction worker stiffened up.

“Step aside, Ernie,” he said in what seemed to be his best Lancelot impression.  “We’re taking the motorcycle.”

“No way!” Ernie protested.  “I’ve put five thousand bucks into that thing. No one’s taking it!”

“Fine Ernie.  We don’t have time to argue.  Have it your way,” said Pete as he put all of his weight behind a fist directed straight at his partner’s nose.

Ernie crumpled onto the pavement, out cold.  Pete bent down to check his friend’s pulse and then swiftly dragged the lifeless body out of harm’s way.

“He’ll be fine.  Let’s roll.”

The motorcycle streaked through the streets of Boston, weaving in and out of traffic.  Somehow, the whole group had managed to squeeze onto the monstrous vehicle.  A petrified Paroophoron was sitting on Flower’s shoulders, arms wrapped around her neck and head buried in her blond hair.  Flower was clinging for dear life to Jude who himself was sticking to Pete with a firm bear hug.  They veered down a narrow alley and then emerged onto a sidewalk sending pedestrians fleeing like a flock of pigeons.  One could say many things about Pete, but as a construction worker he really knew his way around the city and he had the determination and ferocity to push that motorcycle to the limit.

Suddenly, the hospital came into view.  Paroophoron, who had lifted his head, pointed towards the side of the building.

“That door,” he shouted over the wind, directing his finger at the emergency entrance that had been left ajar on Saturday night.  “We need to go in that door.”

“Ok, little buddy,” yelled Pete as he floored the gas and shot towards the hospital.

When they were within feet of the door, Pete grabbed all three of his companions in one of his enormous arms and jumped off the motorcycle while it was still running, sending the driverless bike careening into the window of Wu’s Chinese Smorgasbord across the street.  Wu charged out of the restaurant screaming alien obscenities, but he had no one to yell at because Pete’s colossal frame had crashed through the side door to the emergency room, with the three others right behind him.

Once inside emergency, the crazed construction worker, who was still carrying part of the door he had slammed into, shouted for help.

“Listen up people,” he bellowed.  “This woman needs help or she’s going to die!”

He was immediately tackled by two uniformed security guards who struggled to hold him down while they called for backup.

In all of the commotion, Jude, Flower and Paroophoron snuck away and began running towards the residents’ locker room.