Posted by special guest writer Wangmundo on October 03, 2001 at 18:37:23:
The 'clack' of the side exit echoes reassuringly throughout the cavernous entry to my Kingdom, announcing that Miss Kimbrough has once again locked me in with my treasures. Yeats tonight? Or Byron perhaps... Or do I take down the forbidden book and read of gallant knights and shining heroes? (What harm could there be, just this once?*) I bound happily from the rafters of the great library to the balcony 20 feet away.
Only as my furry feet connect do I notice that the marble flooring has been polished to a gleaming slickness exceeding ice. With a vary unmonsterous "Eep!" I smash to the floor in a heap, skidding helplessly through the Young Adult section and finally crashing headlong into the Harry Potter display (proudly assembled by the local seventh grade class). As shoebox dioramas rain down upon my head, I have only one scathing thought: "Bubba."
The hateful little man has only recently intruded upon my kingdom, and yet has quickly established himself as the bane of my existence. Hired to fill the janitorial vacancy, the man quickly won his way into Miss Kimbough's heart by bringing the level of cleanliness in the library well past godliness status. Of course, it was not just his uncanny abilities with a floor polisher that turned the heads of the female staff... The man apparently possesses a dubious charm. (Don't ask me... I find the little worm revolting. But then, judging by the male specimens of Parodiopolis that I've encountered, perhaps the attraction simply stems from a hopeless desperation on the women's part.)
With a growl, I pick myself up. (I have not bitten off a man's head in seven centuries, at least... but I find myself reevaluating that policy.) Before I can even contemplate reassembling the cardboard and construction paper heap that surrounds me, I am given further distractions... The lobby downstairs is filled with a crackling buzz and the air suddenly takes on a distinct metallic odor. I creep through the pile of crumpled Muggle-work and whatnot to peek through the railing into the entryway below.
My heart falls. There below me, not one but two Bubbas stand engaged in conversation. (As I am already cursed by the universe, this is inarguably a case of overkill). Stifling a sigh, I train my inhuman ears on the odious pair below to find why they insist on plaguing me tonight.
"... Sunday has story-time in the children's department..." the first one is saying. "It can take as much as two hours to find all of the cracker crumbs those kids will trail around... but don't reach down behind the cushions of the couch without gloves on. Believe me... I had to learn that the hard way. On Tuesdays you need to empty all of the waste paper baskets, and then check the basement Political Science stacks for condom wrappers... it's really quite the popular spot among the college students who live with their parents..."
"Bah! Enough already" the other (rather more commanding) Bubba replies in disgust. "I have no desire to learn about the mating rituals of these... these... primitive screw-heads. I have made contact with my 'bride to be'. Everything is in motion... I hardly intend to continue with your menial work." He looks about in contempt. "Could you not find something more honorable then librarian's duties?"
"A thousand apologies, O' most potent Wang" the meek Bubba grovels. "You commanded me to take this form and secure an alibi for you**... This was the first job I could find without 21st century word-processing skills. Well, there was another, but I figured that as long as I was impersonating you, you'd prefer not to be seen in a hair-net..."
The commanding Bubba turns and strikes the other across the mouth, sending him to the floor. "You were impersonating this milquetoast cretin 'Bubba'!" he roars. "You have not the bearing to impersonate one such as I! A Wang stands tall and firm in the face of others! Penetrating in action! Engorged with thoughts of conquest! Do not forget yourself, phantom!"
"Forgive me, great Wang!"
"It's bad enough that I must wear the form of this loathsome wretch to carry out my plans... Far better to take what one desires than to resort to the trickery and stealth that you and your former master employ. He would be at home here... the dried up old fart."
He looks at the prone phantom in disgust. "Enough... For now, I needs be concealed within the flaccid form of this... Bubba. But soon, the heroine Probability Dancer will be mine, and then this primitive world shall taste the power of Wang!" With a turn he strides purposefully towards the door. "Leave a resignation on the desk and then return to the ship... I need to make the final preparations for my master plans... including, apparently, approving flower arrangements, renting a tux, hiring a band and assuring that the bakery does not use coconut icing on the cake... damn primitive savages, still using coconut icing..." he mutters. "And woe be the printer if he has not finished the invitations on the lacy eggshell parchment with matching envelopes as promised... This swears Wang!"
The Bubba-clad Wang flashes out of sight with another crackle, leaving the dejected phantom-Bubba to finish up and disappear as well.
"Hmmm" I murmur thoughtfully as the library is once again my own. Obviously, the good news is that neither Bubba seems likely to be a thorn in my paw ever again. The bad news is that some poor woman is apparently going to marry this excitable Bubba/Wang. The reason why eludes me. Perhaps the man's inhuman cleanliness is beyond her sense of smell.*** Perhaps the telltale ringing of electronics that emanates from within his false image is beyond the range of her hearing. Perhaps she's simply mentally or emotionally handicapped in some way. In the end, I suppose it hardly matters. (It's not like I was invited anyway.)
Shrugging, I return to the Young Adults section to try and make some sense out of the jumbled dioramas while abandoning the attempt to do the same with the Bubba incident. (Hopefully I can repair the cardboard constructs without use of that hideous 'Elmer's glue' substance... Removing it from fur is an all-day affair.)
Why dwell on Bubba's upcoming nuptials, after all? Nothing about the situation is particularly bothersome to me. "Besides, you know nothing about it" I tell myself sternly, my voice echoing harshly through the deserted stacks.
"Yes... He could be perfectly lovely once you get to know him" I answer myself mockingly. A man who just happens to want to disguise himself as a Bubba (nearly incomprehensible, that...), marry a 'Probability Dancer', and then do what comes naturally. (Just be thankful that they'll be making little Wangs instead of populating the world with Bubba-offspring and stay out of it entirely.)
"Completely none of your business" I hiss in agreement with these thoughts. Of course... it could be that the woman is just a pawn in the evil Bubba/Wang's plans, rather than simply a person of limited taste.
(Don't get involved.)
She could be betrothed entirely against her will.
(Don't get involved.)
...An innocent in desperate need.
(Don't get involved.)
A... damsel in distress, as it were...
(Oh, hell.)
It's raining in the pre-dawn hours (heavily) when she finally comes home, escorted by that giant supposed-god teammate of hers****. The lights come on inside her apartment, first in the entryway and then in the kitchen. As I sit hunched on the roof of the library with water soaking slowly through my dense fur, I hope their late night (and my subsequent miserable wait) was due to some cataclysmically dangerous supervillain. (The gambling side of me however bets on something involving alcohol and the steamed up back seat of an official Legion vehicle.)
Whatever the case, it is finally time for me to complete my involvement and then forget this entire affair. I pluck a pebble from the library's roof, take careful aim, and let fly towards her window. The 'clack' of the stone upon the glass is clearly audible from even here across the street... still, no one comes to investigate. With a sigh over the ever-increasing smell of wet fur, I try again with a slightly larger pebble, then wait. The rain continues to beat down (even harder). Finally, with a growl, I pluck a piece of granite from the gargoyle to my left, haul back my arm and let it fly with all my might. As soon as I let go, hindsight informs me that this might be a bit excessive. Luckily, the window is spared as that hulking teammate of hers finally takes that exact moment to investigate. The 'thwak' of stone against immortal nose is clearly audible even from across the street. (As is the excessive profanity that follows it.)
With another unmonsterous "Eeep", I quickly take a position flanking the gargoyle on the edge of the roof. Forming a fierce expression and hunched posture, I let my mouth hang open in my best imitation of my roofmates. Apparently in the dim, rainy pre-dawn light it works (Either that, or the hero has trouble seeing past his rapidly swelling snout). The angry glare from the window passes over me without notice.
"Don't be such a baby" her voice rings clearly over the (heavily) falling rain.
"But... it was thrown really hard!" the thunder-god replies grumpily. "Verily, a frost-giant of dread Nerfflehelm couldst not have done better."
"Well, thanks for taking one for my window" the Amazon replies without much sympathy. "What do you suppose they wanted?"
"Obviously, t'was the opening salvo in a most unholy campaign to conquer Parodiopolis and... er... bring about godly rhinoplasty."
"Or maybe it was an attempt to bring attention to the letter sitting there on the fire escape" she notes, pointing past him.
"Ah... well, mayhaps that be a goal as well. The fabled second bird with but one stone."
"Just gimme the letter doofus" she says teasingly.
"Verily" he mumbles to himself. "This day doth suck."
I watch as he passes her the rain-soaked letter. My penmanship is already quite questionable (The tiny pencils available by the card catalogs were obviously not designed for hairy, clawed paws), but hopefully the downpour has not ruined my effort. She sits at her kitchen table and spreads out my work as the mythological god peers angrily out into the city. (I attempt to look properly petrified while hoping no birds try to nest in my mouth.)
"Be it a secret admirer? If so, then I shall not rest until I doth expose the cowardly cur... um, for thy own curiosity's sake, of course. So thou can thank him for thinking of you... As can I. Repeatedly."
"Actually, it's about that Bubba guy... though this calls him 'Bubba Wang'."
"Be that his last name? Doth Dancer know?"
"Well, if so then you'd think she'd want to avoid having the band announce "Now it's time to proudly present the Wangs" as the two of them enter the wedding reception."
"Aye. Especially with Space Ghost in attendance."
"Hmmmm... it says here... Hey, have you noticed that Bubba smells really clean, like a little girl or something... and that he emits a high pitched whine?"
"Nay, but even so... he doth be an alternate version of spiffy, after all."
"Still... I dunno. Maybe it's something I should look into... check the Legion's records first thing when I get to work tomorrow, that kinda thing."
"If it doth lead to the smiting of Bubba, then surely it be the right and noble course of action. But canst it truly wait until 11:45 tomorrow morn?"
"Hey, Vizh approved that work schedule before he left the team! It's in my contract now. Besides, nothing important ever happens before noon... and it's not like they're gonna elope or anything. Anyway, close the window already... you're letting all that clammy air in."
I sigh in relief as the window goes back down and I can once again move safely. I imagine an audible creak to my poor jaw as I work it closed. My fur is matted to my body and I have the sniffles. (No self respecting monster should ever have the sniffles.) Damn Bubba. Damn Wang (who could possibly expect to be taken seriously with a name as ridiculous as that?) My fellow immortal is quite correct... This day doth suck.
Ah well... I have successfully passed the problem onto someone else. Let the heroes play hero. I drag my dripping hide back inside my dry, warm attic. Let Ms. Pfeffercorn in the children's department reassemble the damnable Harry Potter in the morning. (I never liked wizards anyway.) Perhaps they'll blame the mess on the disgruntled janitor who quit mysteriously in the night. I hardly care.
Solace finally comes as I curl up into a bedraggled, sopping ball and fade towards sleep. Tomorrow will be a better night. For now, I find happiness in a dream of an unending line of Bubbas being smited upon their annoying little heads. It's enough to almost make me purr...
(To be continued... likely by Donar, but at this rate, who can say?)
Footnotes:
* Lord only knows where this ultimately fits into Wangmundo continuity.
** Bubba/Wang used the Library job alibi in the Donar/Dancer Special Anniversary Edition Vol XIII
*** It's a scientific fact that the further back in time you travel, the worse the smell of the general populace. This can obviously be used to deduce the fact that all men from the future smell especially pretty. Honest.
**** Troia moved into an apartment across the street from the library ages
ago. I knew it would come in handy someday.